Nell  Beverly,  Farmer 

A    STORY     OF    FARM     LIFE 


Br 
Elizabeth  Jewett  Brown 

and 

Susan  Jewett  Howe 


Published  by 

THE  RURAL  PUBLISHING  CO. 

NEW  YORK 


Nell  Beverly,  Farmer 


A  Story  of  Farm  Life 


By 

Elizabeth  Jewett  Brown 

and 

Susan  Jewett  Howe 


Published  by 

THE  RURAL  PUBLISHING  Go. 

NEW  YORK 


S-: 


COPYRIGHT,  1908 

BY  THE  RURAL  PUBLISHING  Co. 
All  rights  reserved. 


INTRODUCTION 

Each  year  THE  RURAL  NEW-YORKER  aims  to  give  its  readers  some 
little  gift  that  will  prove  both  useful  and  enduring.  In  this  way  we  have 
sent  out  thousands  of  climbing  rose  bushes.  They  were,  of  necessity, 
small  when  they  left  us,  yet  planted  and  nursed  by  loving  hands,  many 
of  them  have  spread  over  country  homes  where  they  now  cling,  strong 
and  beautiful,  a  constant  reminder  of  good  will.  In  the  same  way  we 
have  given  books,  such  as  "The  Business  Hen,"  "The  Farmer's  Garden" 
and  "The  Rural  Cook  Book."  We  try  to  make  these  books,  like  the  vines 
and  shrubs,  useful  and  enduring,  so  that  they  will  be  kept  for  constant 
reference  and  use.  Now  we  come  with  a  book  of  a  different  character, 
in  the  hope  that  it,  like  our  other  gifts,  will  bring  a  message  that  will 
prove  permanently  useful.  This  year  we  wanted  to  give  our  readers  a 
story,  not  one  that  would  simply  afford  amusement,  but  one  that  would 
take  up  boldly  and  plainly  some  hard  problem  of  farm  life,  which  the 
plain  people  of  the  country  have  been  forced  to  work  out.  The  quickest 
and  easiest  way  to  obtain  a  story  is  to  go  to  some  professional  writer 
with  a  plot  and  engage  him  to  fill  it  in.  This  is  what  we  at  first  expected 
to  do.  The  objection  to  this  plan  is  the  fact  that  while  such  a  writer 
would,  no  doubt,  prepare  a  more  polished  literary  production,  his  char- 
acters would  be  imaginary.  Not  having  lived  them  such  a  man  could  not 
feel  in  his  heart  and  soul  the  scenes  which  he  attempted  to  portray.  I 
have  always  believed  that  there  are  among  the  readers  of  THE  RURAL 
NEW-YORKER  men  and  women  who  have  lived  strong  and  self-sacrificing 
lives,  who  therefore  know  what  it  means  to  struggle  with  real  farm 
problems,  and  who  are  also  capable  of  giving  their  message  to  the  world. 
We  have  found  that  just  such  flesh-and-blood  experience  put  in  forcible 
and  homely  language  is  what  our  people  appreciate  in  other  things,  and 
we  believe  it  is  what  they  want  in  a  farm  story. 

With  this  idea  in  mind,  we  offered  a  prize  for  the  best  story  of  farm 
life.  Some  50  persons  competed  and  after  a  careful  and  painstaking 
review  this  story,  "Nell  Beverly,  Farmer,"  was  selected  as  nearest  our 
needs.  I  will  not  anticipate  the  reading,  yet  I  want  to  say  a  few  words 
about  this  story.  The  captious  critic  may  say  that  it  is  crude  in  places, 
and  not  highly  polished.  He  might  also,  with  truth,  say  the  same  of  the 
daily  lives  and  conversation  of  thousands  of  plain  people  who  work  our 
farms  and  maintain  our  farm  homes. 

What  I  like  about  this  book  is  that  it  is  a  true  flesh-and-blood  picture 
of  plain  farm  people.  The  characters  are  all  taken  from  life,  and  not 

497734 


one  of  them  can  be  said  to  be  impossible.  There  is  no  straining  after 
effect,  nor  any  attempt  at  "fine  writing";  it  is  simply  a  book  just  like 
the  people  who  live  in  the  country :  clean,  plain  and  true.  There  is  not 
a  line  in  this  book  that  could  possibly  harm  anyone.  No  one  can  read  it 
thoughtfully  without  being  made  better  for  it.  The  story  appeals  to  me, 
perhaps,  more  than  to  others,  because  it  brings  to  mind  my  own  mother's 
lifelong  sorrow  because  she  could  not  bring  up  her  children  in  a  home 
of  her  own  on  a  farm.  If  she  could  have  had  such  a  farm  home,  where 
each  one  of  us  could  have  done  some  little  work  with  our  hands  to  help 
out,  our  family  could  have  been  held  together.  As  it  was,  with  no  real 
headquarters,  we  were  separated,  and  life  has  never  been  what  it  would 
have  been  with  any  of  us  could  we  have  had  a  childhood  together  on  the 
farm.  I  know  that  many  who  read  this  will  go  back  in  memory  to  the 
old  farm  home,  and  thank  God  for  the  mother  or  sister  whose  life  was 
spent  for  them.  I  like  to  have  people  read  these  things;  I  like  to  have 
them  think  them  and  live  them. 

Nell  Beverly  and  her  mother  had  the  insight  to  see  that  the  future  of 
their  family  demanded  a  hard  sacrifice  for  the  home.  The  way  the  girl 
responded,  laying  her  hopes  and  ambitions  aside,  will  touch  the  heart  and 
help  to  glorify  the  lives  of  thousands  of  men  and  women  who  in  their 
younger  days  silently  carried  the  burdens  which  others  laid  upon  them. 
The  true  foundation  of  society  and  character  is  built  upon  just  such 
homes  as  Nell  Beverly  toiled  so  hard  to  maintain.  We  are  taught  from 
our  childhood  to  reverence  and  glorify  the  spirit  which  sends  a  man  into 
battle  to  fight  and  die,  if  need  be,  that  his  country  may  live.  We  need 
more  of  that  education  which  shall  teach  our  younger  people  that  it  is 
yet  nobler  and  truer  to  live  so  that  our  country  shall  not  die. 

I  like  the  book,  too,  because  it  is  so  full  of  human  nature,  and  the 
hard  truths  which  every  man  of  middle  years  must  acknowledge.  How 
many  strong  lives  have  been  ground  out  in  the  long  struggle  with  debtl 
No  doubt  there  are  some  who  will  say  that  Nell  Beverly  should  have  been 
willing  to  mortgage  the  farm  or  borrow  in  order  to  obtain  capital.  She 
sternly  refused  to  do  so,  and  she  was  right  as  her  family  was  situated. 
I  hope  the  experience,  which  is  here  so  graphically  portrayed,  will  nerve 
others  to  shun  debt  and  easy  borrowing  as  they  would  a  pestilence.  To 
my  mind,  the  spirit  of  the  untrained  girl,  realizing  all  that  training  and 
culture  would  do  for  her,  yet  resolutely  giving  it  up  because  duty  called 
her  away,  is  full  of  the  noblest  pathos.  I  feel  this  because  I  know  so 
many  men  and  women  to  whom  life  has  denied  the  training  and  education 
for  which  they  longed  in  their  youth.  Most  of  them,  like  Nell  Beverly, 
have  lived  through  the  cruel  disappointment  of  it  with  a  sweetness  and 
patience  which  has  given  them  a  spiritual  power  that  they  never  dreamed 
of.  If  I  could  take  the  young  men  or  women  of  20  and  make  them  feel 
and  know  just  what  it  means  to  be  45,  after  living  such  a  life  as  Nell 


9 

Beverly  lived,  I  could  make  the  next  20  years  of  our  history  the  most 
glorious  years  this  Republic  has  known. 

Another  scene  true  to  human  nature  is  that  wherein  Bob  Beverly 
suddenly  realizes  what  he  has  done  in  forging  his  sister's  name.  That 
impulse  to  confess  the  sin,  to  rush  back  to  the  one  who  had  been  wronged, 
cursing  because  his  utmost  speed  seemed  too  slow,  is  imbedded  in  the 
heart  of  man.  Bob  could  not  help  doing  just  what  he  did  and  retain  any 
self-respect  or  real  character.  He  had  needed  all  his  life  just  such  a 
shocking  lesson  of  what  sin  would  lead  him  to.  People  have  called  this 
"the  New  England  conscience,"  but  it  is  really  one  of  the  primal  forces 
in  man's  nature.  It  was  much  the  same  with  Searls  Jackson,  a  much 
stronger  character  than  Bob.  Some  great  crisis  was  needed  to  break 
down  the  old  habit  and  the  pride  which  had  been  handed  down  to  him 
through  a  long  inheritance.  A  happier  scene  is  that  in  which  Searls  and 
Nell  walk  up  and  down  the  field,  he  holding  the  handles  of  the  plow  and 
she  walking  at  his  side,  "talking  of  the  wondrous  love  that  was  theirs." 

The  world  is  so  full  of  stories  which  merely  amuse  or  entertain  I  We 
hear  so  much  of  wickedness,  or  some  aimless  or  improbable  life  which 
gives  no  worthy  incentive  to  plain,  honest  people  who  can  only  hope  at 
best  to  glorify  a  humble  station  and  a  simple  place  in  the  world,  that  we 
are  glad  to  give  our  readers  this  strong,  simple,  true  story.  It  stands  for 
the  things  which  THE  RURAL  NEW-YORKER  has  represented  for  20  years. 

HERBERT    W.    COLLINGWOOD. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I.  PAGE 

The  Little  Red  Baby 7-14 

CHAPTER  II. 

The  Grip  of  the  Normal 15-30 

CHAPTER  III. 

The  Ancient   Prophecy 31-36 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Planning    37-49 

CHAPTER  V. 

Bob  50-62 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Nell  Begins  Farming  in  Earnest 63-76 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Sarepta  Barry  77-87 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Solving  Problems  88-98 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Lucille  Saves  the  House 99-104 

CHAPTER  X. 

The  Golden  Fleece  105-119 

CHAPTER  XI. 

The  Prodigal's  Return 120-127 

CHAPTER  XII. 

The  "Hoss  Trade" 128-138 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Friday  the  Thirteenth 139-151 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  Election   152-164 

CHAPTER  XV. 

How  Bob  Made  Good 165-173 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

The  Barrier  174-183 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Sweet  Out  of  Bitter. .  184-190 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE   LITTLE   RED  BABY. 

The  Thanksgiving  recess  of  the  Winthrop  Normal  School 
was  at  hand,  and  the  girls  of  the  A  Division  of  the  Juniors  were 
exchanging  merry  farewells  in  the  cloakroom  when  one  of  the 
teachers,  coming  to  the  door,  asked  for  Miss  Beverly. 

"Professor  Trowbridge  wishes  to  see  you  a  moment  in  the 
office,"  she  said. 

"Guess  you  are  in  for  a  lecture  now,"  chorused  a  half  dozen 
teasingly.  "Can't  you  remember  doing  some  terrible  thing,  such 
as  talking  out  loud  in  the  library,  or  dropping  the  dictionary, 
or— or— " 

The  girl  hurried  away  laughingly.  Most  of  the  pupils  were 
in  great  awe  of  the  principal,  awe  mixed  with  fear,  for  his 
patience  was  lacking  when  his  rules  were  deviated  from  in  the 
slightest  degree,  but  Nell  Beverly  had  never  shared  that  feeling. 
He  looked  up  from  his  desk  cordially: 

"I  thought  I  would  tell  you,  Miss  Beverly,  that  we  hope  noth- 
ing will  prevent  your  returning,"  he  said  kindly.  "You  have  a 
great  future  ahead  of  you;  a  remarkable  one,  I  may  say.  No 
pupil  that  we  have  ever  had  here  has  done  as  well  as  you.  When 
you  come  back  I  think  we  will  promote  you  a  little — give  you 
observation  work,  perhaps.  You  are  destined  to  be  a  star  pupil 
of  the  Winthrop  Normal,  and  if  you  finish  as  well  as  you  have 
promised,  your  position  will  be  assured.  How  would  you  like 
to  stay  here  as  one  of  our  teachers  ?" 

The  girl  went  out  into  the  keen  snowy  air  with  her  brain 
filled  with  the  highest  hopes.  How  pleased  her  mother  would 
be;  she  could  hardly  wait  until  the  slow  local  had  crawled  into 
the  West  Winthrop  station,  a  dozen  miles  away,  at  seven  that 
evening.  Her  brother  Bob — a  big  boy  of  fifteen — two  years  her 
junior,  was  waiting  for  her  in  the  snow,  which  by  that  time 
was  assuming  the  bluster  of  a  midwinter  storm.  "Hurry  up!" 
he  called  brusquely,  "the  sooner  we  get  home  the  better." 


8  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

She  stepped  into  the  sleigh,  tucking  her  bundle  of  books  care- 
fully under  the  seat.  "Three  days  of  study  at  home,'*  she  said 
gleefully.  "Oh,  Bob,  you  don't  know  what  good  news  I  have 
to  tell  mother." 

"I  guess  you  won't  tell  her  much  good  news  to-night,"  he 
answered.  "There  is  a  houseful  of  women  there  and — another 
boy." 

She  gasped.  It  came  like  a  shock.  Some  way  in  her  happi- 
ness and  absorbing  interest  in  the  Normal  School  she  had  not 
realized  the  import  of  what  she  knew  was  coming.  She  had  not 
been  home  in  two  days ;  there  had  been  a  reception  by  the  teach- 
ers the  night  before,  and  she  had  stayed.  She  had  been  so  happy. 
Her  heart  smote  her  at  the  thought,  and  she  questioned  about 
her  mother. 

"All  right,  I  guess,"  the  boy  answered.  "It  blows  too  hard 
to  talk.  I  want  to  keep  Dora  a  humping  till  we  get  home." 

The  girl  felt  chilled  to  the  heart.  Mingled  with  her  love  and 
anxiety  for  her  mother  came  the  fear  that  she  could  not  return 
to  the  Normal — and  after  all  that  Trowbridge  had  just  told  her, 
too.  She  did  not  think  of  the  baby  at  all.  He  was  just  an  incident, 
a  sort  of  interloper  in  her  plans,  and  she  put  him  from  her  mind. 
All  she  wanted  was  just  to  get  home;  to  be  once  more  with  her 
mother,  and  hear  from  her  own  lips  that  all  was  well. 

Presently  they  drove  up  to  the  front  door,  and  her  father 
opened  it  promptly.  The  warm  glow  of  the  lamplight  streamed  out 
into  the  sifting  snow,  revealing  sundry  drifts  that  were  begin- 
ning to  cover  the  wide  stone  step.  She  stepped  over  them  into 
the  warmth  of  the  little  hall,  where  four  small  children  were  hud- 
dled on  the  stairs  in  a  state  of  suppressed  excitement.  They 
followed  her  into  the  sitting  room,  imploring  her  to  guess  what 
had  happened.  While  hastily  removing  her  outer  wraps  she 
amused  the  children  by  the  wildest  guesses,  finally  bribing  them 
by  the  candy  she  had  brought,  to  tell  her  the  wonderful  news. 
Then,  as  she  was  warm,  she  went  upstairs  to  her  mother's  room. 
A  faint  wail  greeted  her  ear  as  she  softly  opened  the  door.  A 
neighbor  sat  in  front  of  the  small  stove  with  a  bundle  of  flannel 


THE    LITTLE    RED    BABY.  9 

in  her  lap.  The  girl,  did  not  look  at  it,  but  went  directly  to 
the  bed,  and  bent  over  the  pale  smiling  face  on  the  pillow. 
"Nothing  matters  in  all  the  wide  world,  mother  dear,  but  you," 
she  said  lovingly. 

"I  have  had  a  hard  fight,  Nell,"  said  the  mother,  weakly,  "but 
it  is  all  right  now.  The  little  man  is  twelve  hours  old.  I  guess 
I  am  getting  too  old  to  bear  children  easily.  Have  you  seen  the 
baby?" 

The  girl  shook  her  head.  "I  don't  want  to.  I  don't  want  to 
see  or  know  anything  but  you.  We  had  enough  without  him, 
and  he  brought  you  to  this — this  pain,  this  danger — "  she  began 
to  sob,  but  checked  herself  resolutely. 

The  sick  woman  tightened  her  hand  on  the  girl's  strong 
fingers.  "You  must  not  speak  that  way,  Nell.  It  is  very  wrong. 
This  last  child  has  the  same  right  to  an  existence  that  the  rest 
of  you  have  had.  He  is  the  innocent  cause  of  my  suffering,  but 
this  is  forgotten  now — "  her  smile  glorified  her  face.  "Some 
day  he  will  probably  be  our  greatest  comfort.  Who  knows  but 
that  I  shall  yet  be  like  our  ancestress,  who  in  this  very  house 
gave  birth  to  sixteen  children.  You  know  it  was  said  of  her,  that 

'Sixteen  children  sat  with  her 
At  the  table  of  the  Lord.' " 

She  quoted  the  lines  brightly  with  a  flash  of  her  happy  nature 
shining  in  her  eyes.  "You  know  that  her  first  child,  the  eldest 
of  the  ten  girls,  helped  in  bringing  up  the  rest.  She  was  my 
grandmother,  Helena  Beverly;  and  perhaps  she  is  reincarnated 
in  you.  Who  knows  ? 

The  girl  laughed  at  the  conceit,  and  kneeling  by  her  mother's 
bed  told  her  all  the  wonderful  things  which  the  future  held  in 
store  for  her.  Then  with  a  glance  at  the  slumbering  red  baby 
she  went  down  stairs  to  attend  to  the  work;  for  there  was  much 
to  do  in  that  family.  Although  she  was  well  trained  in  work, 
yet  it  was  not  easy  to  step  into  her  mother's  place,  for  there  was 
the  old  man,  Grandpa  Beverly,  past  his  three-score  and  ten;  her 


10  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

father,  and  brother  Bob ;  then  the  five  small  children,  the  oldest  a 
girl  of  seven.  No  wonder  that  she  did  not  think  the  baby  was 
needed  there. 

She  was  happy  the  next  day,  Thanksgiving,  when  she  held 
full  charge  of  the  house,  and  cooked  the  big  turkey  and  the 
vegetables.  Her  mother  had  prepared  the  pies  and  cranberries 
two  days  before,  and  while  the  family  feasted  in  the  old  kitchen 
Mrs.  Beverly  lay  content  in  the  wide  bed  upstairs  with  the  red 
baby  by  her  side.  She  would  soon  be  up  again,  and  Nell,  her 
brilliant  Nell,  could  go  on  unhindered  in  her  chosen  way. 

But  she  was  not  very  strong  on  Sunday,  and  Tuesday  Nell 
hoped  to  return  to  the  Normal.  The  little  red  baby  was  fretful 
and  puny,  and  required  considerable  nursing  from  the  woman 
who  was  helping  with  the  work,  but  she  agreed  to  stay  several 
days  longer,  so  that  the  girl  could  return  to  the  school.  The 
snow  before  Thanksgiving  turned  to  rain  Monday  afternoon  and 
when  it  was  nearly  dark  Joe  Green  stumbled  into  the  kitchen  and 
asked  for  the  old  woman. 

"It  is  no  use  talking"  he  said,  "but  she  has  got  to  go  home 
with  me  to-night,  fer  I  am  about  dead." 

"But  we  can't  spare  her,"  cried  Nell  quickly,  turning  from 
her  ironing.  "I  must  go  back  to  school  to-morrow,  and  mother 
can't  sit  up  .yet.  The  baby  is  only  four  days  old." 

"I  can't  help  that,"  he  insisted  doggedly,  "you  will  have  to 
git  somebody  else.  There  haint  a  bone  in  my  body  but  what  is 
as  sore  as  a  bile,  and  it's  chances  whether  I  can  git  outen  the  befi 
to-morry  mornin'.  The  old  woman  will  hev'  to  come  home  and 
do  the  chores  and  look  atter  the  young  uns." 

The  girl  looked  at  him  and  saw  that  he  was  suffering.  One 
arm  was  tied  up  in  a  handkerchief  sling.  He  was  limping  on  a 
rude  crutch;  there  was  a  purple  bruise  on  one  cheek,  and  his 
clothes  were  streaked  with  mud  and  snow. 

"What  has  happened  to  you  anyway?"  she  asked. 

He  settled  himself  heavily  in  the  wood  box  by  the  door,  dis- 
daining the  chair  Nell  proffered  him.  "When  a  feller  feels  as 
had  as  I  do,  settin'  on  a  few  chunks  of  wood  don't  make  no 


THE    LITTLE    RED    BABY.  11 

difference,"  he  grunted,  "fer  one  place  wouldn't  be  no  softer 
than  anuther  nohow.  Fact  is,  I  hev  been  tradin'  hosses  with 
Searls  Jackson.  You  know  he's  hum  from  college,"  he  added 
meaningly. 

The  girl  blushed.    "Yes,  go  on,"  she  said  hurriedly. 

"Well,  I'd  had  it  in  my  mind  fer  a  long  spell  that  I'd  do  him 
on  a  hoss  trade  if  I  could ;  fer  I  hadn't  fergot  how  he'd  done  me 
on  a  cow  trade  onct.  Now,  he  didn't  lie  any.  All  he  said  was 
truth,  but  he  didn't  tell  the  truth  far  enough,  and  I  thought  I'd 
give  him  a  dose  of  the  same  medicine.  So  when  I  got  that  bay 
mare  of  mine,  and  found  she  was  as  full  of  tricks  as  a  woman, 
no  dependin'  on  her  whatever,  I  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would 
soak  Searls  on  her.  My,  but  she  is  a  purty  beast,  and  until  you 
know  her,  you  would  think  she  was  a  lamb  that  had  by  mistake 
been  put  into  a  hoss's  hide.  Smile,  why  I  have  seen  her  grin 
all  over  her  face  almost  human,  with  her  ears  forrard  and  lookin' 
as  if  ready  to  kiss  you  if  she  could;  and  fust  you'd  know  she 
would  grab  you  by  the  scruff  of  your  neck  with  them  teeth  of 
hern,  and  after  I'd  whaled  her  she'd  haul  off  and  kick  until  no 
mortal  man  would  'a  dared  go  near  her.  So  this  mornin'  I 
hitched  her  up  and  went  over  to  see  Searls.  We  haggled  fer  a 
long  time,  fer  he  knows  a  hoss  from  top  to  bottom.  I  ain't 
denyin'  that  I  lied  some,  but  I  can't  say  that  he  did.  He  told  me 
everything  fair  and  square  that  I  ast  him.  I  said  when  he 
brought  out  the  prettiest  little  black  gelding  that  I  had  seen  in  a 
long  time,  that  I'd  swap  fer  him  if  he  would  tell  me  the  truth 
about  him.  He  said :  What  do  you  want  to  know  ?'  So  I  ast  a 
string  of  questions  a  yard  long,  and  he  told  me  straight  on  every 
one  of  'em,  I  believe.  But  I  never  ast  him  ef  he'd  get  mad  in 
the  rain,"  he  groaned  dismally. 

The  girl  laughed.    Joe  continued  dolefully: 

"We  made  the  swap,  and  I  druv  away,  feeling  purty  good. 
Accordin'  to  Searls'  answers  I  had  jest  bought  an  angel  with 
hoofs  that  could  make  ten  mile  an  hour  easy.  As  long  as  I  druv 
around  West  Winthrop  here,  he  went  all  right,  but  the  minnit  I 
reined  him  on  the  Winthrop  road  then  he  began  to  show  his  dis- 


12  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

position.  He  thought  he  had  gone  about  fer  enough  in  the  rain, 
and  he  guessed  that  he  wouldn't  go  no  further  with  the  rain  in 
his  face  ef  he  could  help  it.  He  kept  a  goin'  slower  and  slower 
until  finally  when  about  half  way  down  a  steep  hill  he  stopped 
plumb  and  didn't  give  a  hang  that  the  democrat  was  a  runnin'  on 
his  heels.  I  tried  my  persuader  on  him  till  it  broke,  and  then 
he  jest  laid  back  them  ears  and  began  to  kick.  And  say,  Miss 
Nell,  did  you  ever  see  the  fur  fly  in  a  cat  fight?  Tain't  nothin' 
to  the  way  his  heels  went.  The  fust  kick  splintered  the  dash- 
board, the  second  sent  me  kitin',  fer  he  took  me  when  I  was  a 
standin'  up  in  the  wagon  and  sent  me  head  over  heels  into  the 
mud  over  the  front  axle,  and  while  I  was  a  pickin'  myself  up  he 
kept  them  heels  a  flyin'  until  he  had  kicked  himself  clean  outen 
the  traces,  and  the  last  I  saw  of  him  he  was  a  flyin'  back  towards 
Jackson's  barn  with  the  harness  a  dangling  frum  him,  and  me 
asettin'  swearin'  in  the  road.  Pierre  Benoit  cum  along  jest  then 
an'  brought  me  as  fer  as  here.  I'd  most  rather  a  man  would 
lie  a  little  than  to  be  so  blamed  truthful,"  he  added  mournfully. 

After  Joe  Green  had  departed  with  his  domineering  old 
woman  Nell  went  up  to  her  mother's  room.  For  a  few  hard 
moments  she  had  struggled  by  herself  with  her  disappointment 
and  her  duty;  but  her  love  for  her  mother  triumphed,  and  her 
face  wore  a  cheerful  smile  when  she  knelt  by  the  sick  woman's 
bed,  and  laughingly  told  her  of  Joe  Green's  disaster. 

"I  know  he  had  been  drinking  a  little,  and  the  horse  had  the 
most  sense  of  the  two,  for  he  was  going  to  Winthrop  to  get  some- 
thing more,"  she  said.  "Now  don't  say  a  word,"  as  Mrs.  Beverly 
began  to  speak;  "a  few  more  days  at  home  won't  make  such  an 
awful  difference.  Father  will  go  to-morrow  and  see  if  he  can 
get  somebody  else  to  take  Mrs.  Green's  place,  and  even  if  he 
doesn't,  he  and  Grandpa  and  Bob  will  help  me  all  they  can  until 
you  are  better  again,  and,"  she  added  lovingly,  "nothing  in  the 
world  matters  but  you,  mother,  nothing  at  all." 

But  no  one  else  could  be  found,  and  in  a  day  or  so  Nell 
realized  that  she  could  not  possibly  return  to  the  Normal  till  New 
Year's,  There  was  so  much  to  do  that  she  did  not  have  time  to 


THE    LITTLE    RED    BABY.  13 

dwell  on  her  own  disappointment.  The  little  red  baby  required 
almost  constant  care,  and  her  mother's  convalescence  was  slow. 
Grandpa  Beverly  looked  after  the  younger  children,  and  her 
father  and  Bob  assisted  all  that  they  could  in  the  housework. 
Besides,  there  was  the  necessity  of  keeping  up  a  bright  face  when 
with  her  mother,  but  the  woman  was  not  deceived.  She  knew  the 
bitter  longing  in  the  girl's  heart,  and  she  sympathized  with  her 
deeply.  And  she  also  knew  that  though  Nell  gave  patient  care 
to  the  baby  yet  she  did  not  love  him,  and  that  she  regarded  him 
is  an  interloper.  But  at  Christmas  time  Mrs.  Beverly  began  to 
take  her  old  place  in  the  daily  work,  and  Nell's  hopes  of  returning 
ito  school  at  New  Year's  were  again  raised. 

A  bright  Monday,  and  the  girl  and  Bob  were  doing  the  family 
washing.  The  boy  had  carried  in  the  water  and  lifted  the  heavy 
tubs,  while  the  mother  had  laughed  with  them  from  the  rocking 
chair  while  caring  for  the  baby.  At  last,  when  Nell  went  out 
with  the  final  basket  to  the  line,  Mrs.  Beverly  laid  the  sleeping 
child  in  the  cradle,  and  started  down  cellar  for  the  vegetables 
for  dinner.  A  few  moments  later,  when  Nell  came  happily  in 
she  was  startled  by  the  rush  of  cold  air  from  the  open  cellar  door, 
and  her  ear  caught  the  heavy  groans  of  pain.  But  an  instant, 
and  she  was  lifting  her  mother  in  her  arms  from  the  broken  cellar 
stair  where  she  had  fallen — the  stair  her  father  had  always 
intended  to  mend.  She  carried  her  to  the  couch  in  the  kitchen — 
no  more  conscious  of  her  weight  than  if  she  had  been  a  child. 
Pausing  only  long  enough  to  call  to  Bob  she  began  to  apply  what 
restoratives  she  could,  and  while  the  boy  raced  Dora  for  the  doc- 
tor, she  knelt  by  the  side  of  the  dying  woman  with  a  feeling  as  if 
she  was  turned  to  stone.  The  little  children  screamed  with  terror 
at  the  sight  of  the  unconscious  mother  who  had  never  failed  to 
smile  for  them  before,  and  Grandpa  Beverly,  though  crushed 
with  grief,  took  them  away  and  amused  them.  The  red  baby 
wailed  in  his  cradle,  but  the  girl  did  not  hear  him.  She  was 
praying,  praying,  praying  humbly  that  her  mother  might  be 
spared,  but  when  grave  Dr.  Dixson  entered  the  room  and  felt  of 
the  feeble  pulse,  she  knew  without  being  told.  An  hour,  two 


14  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

hours  passed.  The  father  and  Bob  knelt  with  her  by  the  couch. 
The  Greens  came,  and  the  old  woman  cared  for  the  baby  while 
the  man  strove  to  hide  his  emotion.  By  and  by  there  was  a 
smile  on  the  face,  and  the  mother  spoke.  Nell  was  alone  with 
her  at  that  moment. 

"I  felt  it  was  to  be  so,"  she  said,  "and  Nell,  my  brave  girl,  it 
is  all  left  with  you  now.  All  the  little  ones,  their  future — their 
home  is  with  you.  You  will  love  them,  Nell." 

The  girl  assented  chokingly.  "Oh,  mother,  if  it  could  only  be 
me- — if  it  could  only  be  me." 

"No,  dear.  I  am  tired,  and  I  have  been  tired  so  long.  I  am 
going  to  rest  now.  It  is  the  baby  and  Bob,  Nell.  Bob  is  like 
his  father,  a  wanderer ;  look  after  him,  won't  you  ?  And  the  baby, 
the  little  red  baby,  I  want  him  again,  Nell,  for  the  last  time."  He 
was  laid  in  her  arms  and  she  kissed,  with  gray  lips,  the  little 
face.  "The  last  thing  I  can  ever  give  you,  Nell,  it  is  this  baby. 
You  must  love  him,  as  I  have  loved  him,"  and  the  girl  with  her 
heart  torn  with  the  most  bitter  anguish  promised,  and  kept  her 
word. 

Finally  she  spoke  again.  "And  Grandpa,  you  must  keep  his 
home  for  him ;  and  for  your  father.  He  may  wander  again ; 
don't  let  him  go — you  must  look  after  the  home — the  farm.  It 
all  comes  on  you,  as  it  has  always  been  on  me  to  look  after 
things,"  she  whispered. 

Presently  it  was  all  over.  There  had  been  a  final  smile  for 
each ;  and  with  the  words  "The  baby  and  Bob,  Nell,"  and  "Into 
Thy  hands,  oh,  God — "  Helena  Beverly,  with  a  smile  on  her  face, 
passed  into  rest,  and  the  little  red  baby  wailed  in  his  sister's  arms. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  GRIP  OF  THE  NORMAL. 

The  first  terrible  week  was  at  an  end  before  the  girl  realized 
that  there  would  be  no  more  Normal  School  for  her  that  year. 
She  had  not  even  thought  of  it  in  the  awful  intervening  days, 
when  the  readjustment  of  their  daily  life  was  taking  place.  Her 
grief  was  so  terrible.  She  had  never  loved  anyone  as  she  had 
loved  her  mother;  they  had  been  all  in  all  to  each  other;  and 
often  she  found  herself  wondering  dully  why  she  did  not  die  too. 
She  could  not  see  how  her  life  could  continue  pulsing  in  her  veins 
when  her  mother's  life  had  gone  out.  But  the  luxury  of  brood- 
ing over  her  own  sorrow  was  denied  her.  She  had  to  think  with 
her  father  and  grandfather,  and  had  to  plan  with  them  the 
arrangements  that  were  made.  She  had  to  comfort  Bob — poor 
Bob  who  had  also  worshipped  his  mother,  and  who  was  almost 
crazed  with  grief.  And  the  old  grandfather  and  the  father,  too, 
though  both  turned  to  her  as  they  would  have  turned  to  the 
mother  for  sympathy  and  comfort  if  Nell  had  been  taken  instead. 
Then  there  were  the  little  children.  Seven-year-old  Lucille  and 
five-year-old  Madaline  who  were  old  enough  to  know  what  had 
happened,  and  sought  Nell  to  take  their  mother's  place.  Then 
the  three  babies;  Manning  in  his  fourth  year,  Kenton,  twenty 
months,  and  the  little  red  baby  that  wailed  continually  when 
awake  and  would  be  good  with  no  one  but  Nell.  Her  cup  was 
brimming  full,  though  the  neighbors  were  more  than  kind.  Mrs. 
Green  stayed  with  her  constantly,  and  Searls  Jackson's  mother 
did  what  she  could. 

Her  father  talked  with  her  one  night  when  the  Winter  snow 
was  heaping  high  the  grave  that  had  been  filled  for  more  than  a 
week.  He  spoke  of  the  Normal  School  and  of  his  anxiety  that 
she  should  continue  her  education  there,  and  he  wished  that  it 
could  be  managed  then,  though  he  could  not  well  see  how. 
There  was  not  much  money,  but  he  would  hire  it  on  the  stock. 
Mrs.  Green  could  be  engaged  to  come  there  every  day  and  look 


16  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

after  the  children,  and  she  would  take  the  baby  and  care  for  it  all 
the  week  through  while  Nell  was  away.  He  had  been  talking 
with  her  about  it,  and  that  was  the  best  he  could  do.  Although 
the  Winter  term  was  nearly  half  through  perhaps  Nell  could  make 
up  her  studies. 

He  was  crushed  and  broken-hearted.  The  girl  realized  in- 
tuitively the  sacrifices  he  was  willing  to  make  for  her  sake,  and 
her  heart  went  out  to  him  in  a  great  wave  of  pity  and  love. 
Some  way  her  father  had  never  commanded  the  love  and  rever- 
ence from  her  that  her  mother  had  done.  In  her  early  childhood 
he  was  away  from  home  nearly  all  the  time,  traveling  from  place 
to  place  as  a  civil  engineer.  He  had  been  only  home  for  a  few 
weeks  at  a  time  until  after  Lucille  was  a  baby.  Then  he  had 
yielded  to  his  wife's  entreaties  and  had  taken  up  the  farm,  as 
Grandpa  did  not  feel  equal  to  the  task  of  carrying  it  on  any 
longer.  It  needed  a  younger  man,  and  he  was  anxious  that  his 
only  child  should  bring  up  his  children  to  love  the  ancient 
Beverly  estate.  But  Jason  Beverly  was  not  a  farmer.  It  was  a 
favorite  remark  of  his  that  the  farm  was  no  place  for  a  smart 
man,  and  her  mother  had  always  replied  that  it  was  just  the  place 
for  a  smart  woman ;  and  the  girl  knew  that  her  mother  had  always 
been  the  real  head  of  the  farm,  planning  the  routine  of  crops  from 
seed  time  till  harvest,  which  her  father  carried  out  with  the  help 
of  Joe  Green  and  other  hired  men.  In  town  business,  for  he  was 
first  selectman,  he  would  work  faithfully  and  interestedly,  but  the 
farm  was  always  secondary.  Forever  his  mind  was  dwelling  on 
the  Golden  Fleece,  which  was  to  be  found  elsewhere,  and  when 
he  began  to  speak  of  the  future,  that  it  would  be  necessary  for 
him  to  go  back  to  his  trade  to  earn  the  money  necessary  to  carry 
on  the  farm  and  support  the  family,  the  conflict  between  ambition 
and  duty  which  was  struggling  in  the  girl's  soul  came  to  an 
abrupt  end.  She  realized  that  the  wanderlust  had  again  taken 
possession  of  him.  She  knew  by  his  restless  wandering  from 
window  to  window,  and  the  look  in  his  eye  as  he  followed  the 
windings  of  the  road  which  led  southward  down  through  the 
flats,  following  the  river  which  led  to  the  sea.  Her  mother's 


THE    GRIP    OF    THE    NORMAL.  17 

final  charge  rang  in  her  ears.  She  almost  heard  again  the  words 
the  dying  lips  had  spoken,  "Do  not  let  him  go;  keep  him  from 
wandering."  Another  woman  undoubtedly  could  look  after  the 
baby  and  the  children,  but  there  was  no  one  to  care  for  her 
father  and  Bob  but  herself.  And  her  place  was  at  home.  The 
Normal  School  could  wait — she  was  young  yet — perhaps  in  a 
year  or  so  she  could  return.  And  she  spoke  these  thoughts  to 
her  father  while  telling  him  of  her  plans. 

At  fifteen  she  had  begun  teaching  in  the  little  school  house 
some  five  minutes'  walk  from  her  home.  The  school  had  dwindled 
down  to  eight  small  children,  and  no  teacher  would  take  it  for 
five  dollars  a  week  and  board  herself.  So  when  Mr.  Jackson 
had  offered  the  school  to  her  she  had  accepted  it  as  her  mother 
had  counseled  her  to  do.  And  she  had  had  great  success,  enjoy- 
ing every  hour  of  the  time,  and  fairly  reveling  in  the  wealth  of 
the  one  hundred  and  eighty  dollars  she  had  earned  each  year. 
That  money  had  bought  so  many  things,  and  had  given  her  that 
one  delightful  term  at  the  Normal,  for  Mrs.  Beverly  had  clearly 
foreseen  the  time  that  was  coming  when  Nell  would  lose  her 
school  unless  she  was  trained. 

The  district  had  had  a  Normal  teacher  that  term,  a  girl  who 
had  never  entered  a  district  school  before,  and  who  made  wretched 
work  in  trying  to  introduce  her  methods  and  the  ways  of  a  city 
school  into  the  country.  The  board  had  dismissed  her  in  disgust, 
and  they  had  come  to  Nell  with  the  request  that  she  take  up  her 
own  work  again  at  seven  dollars  a  week.  The  girl  was  glad  to  go 
back  if  her  father  was  willing.  The  little  baby  was  beginning 
to  thrive  on  his  bottle,  and  slept  several  hours  at  a  time.  Mrs. 
Green  would  do  the  cooking,  washing  and  cleaning,  and  between 
them  they  could  manage  the  rest,  for  she  would  take  the  two 
little  girls  with  her  to  school.  So  it  was  arranged,  and  the  middle 
of  January  found  Nell  back  in  her  school,  while  her  father  and 
grandfather  managed  the  best  they  could  in  the  house,  and  Bob 
did  the  chores  at  the  barn. 

She  had  no  time  to  dwell  on  herself  or  own  grief  and  bitter 
disappointment  that  Winter.  The  thoughts  of  her  blighted  ambi- 


18  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

tion  she  put  from  her  with  a  strong  hand.  She  was  the  only 
comfort  now  that  the  family  had.  They  all  turned  to  her  for 
sympathy,  for  advice  and  for  the  home,  as  the  sunflower  turns 
to  the  sun.  Her  mother's  mantle  had  fallen  on  her  shoulders, 
and  she  strove  to  follow  in  her  footsteps.  Her  father  needed 
her  dreadfully,  and  as  the  days  passed  they  grew  very  close 
together,  and  in  his  devotion  to  her  he  made  up  in  part  the  loss 
of  her  mother.  Thus  two  years  passed,  and  the  little  red  baby 
had  become  a  beautiful  child  of  two,  Carlos,  they  called  him, 
and  next  to  her  father  Nell  loved  him  the  best  of  anything  in  the 
world. 

Hope  and  ambition  were  high  in  her  heart  again.  She  wras 
to  return  to  the  Normal  at  Thanksgiving,  for  there  seemed  no 
reason  now  why  she  could  not  leave  home.  But  that  week 
brought  the  second  great  sorrow  which  entered  her  life.  During 
the  beautiful  Fall  weather  her  father  had  put  off  shingling  the 
house.  Town  interests  had  been  more  important,  until  finally, 
just  after  he  had  opened  the  house  a  heavy  storm  of  sleet  and 
rain  compelled  him  to  complete  his  shingling  during  the  gale. 
The  result  was  three  days  of  unconsciousness  in  double  pneu- 
monia, and  he  was  laid  by  the  side  of  their  mother  in  the  ceme- 
tery, and  Nell  was  left  alone  with  the  old  grandfather,  to  care 
for  the  home  and  the  little  children. 

The  handwriting  on  the  wall  she  could  read  easily.  There 
was  to  be  no  more  education  for  her.  She  was  to  be  father 
and  mother  both  to  the  children,  and  she  feared  that  she  would 
be  entirely  alone,  for  grandpa  was  bowed  to  the  earth  with 
sorrow  by  the  death  of  his  son.  Again  she  put  aside  her  own 
misery  and  comforted  him  and  Bob.  Poor  Bob!  He  had 
inherited  his  father's  nature  and  the  wanderlust  in  his  blood 
could  not  be  quenched.  She  tried  to  be  patient  with  him,  shi 
tried  to  hold  him  by  her  side — tried  to  make  him  feel  that  he 
must  share  the  burden  of  caring  for  the  little  ones,  but  he  would 
not  listen.  He  could  not  and  would  not  stay  there  after  his 
father  was  gone.  Everything  on  the  place  hurt  him — he  was 
going  to  put  his  sorrow  behind  him  and  go  into  the  world,  where 


THE    GRIP    OF    THE    NORMAL.  19 

fame  and  fortune  awaited  him,  and  at  the  beginning1  of  the  New 
Year  he  went,  and  Nell  and  Grandpa  Beverly  bore  the  burden 
between  them. 

The  young  fellow  came  back  frequently;  he  had  great  plans, 
and  for  two  or  three  years  Nell  followed  him  implicitly,  follow- 
ing his  ideas  and  paying  the  bills  as  far  as  she  could,  although 
everything  always  turned  out  differently  from  what  he  had 
planned,  and  his  schemes  always  proved  disastrous  in  the  end. 
He  would  begin  bravely,  but  would  not  hold  out.  He  hated  farm 
work,  and  no  matter  how  urgent  or  pressing  the  work  might  be 
he  would  not  stick  to  it  a  whole  day  at  a  time,  to  say  nothing 
of  applying  himself  for  a  week  or  a  month;  consequently  help 
always  had  to  be  hired,  and  Nell  had  to  pay  the  bills.  In  the 
Spring  he  would  plow  more  land  than  they  could  cultivate, 
planning  for  immense  crops.  Help  would  be  hired  till  the  fields 
were  planted,  and  then,  as  there  was  never  enough  money  to  hire 
a  man  constantly  during  the  season,  most  of  the  crops  would  be 
choked  with  weeds  and  die  of  neglect,  and  each  year  the  family 
found  itself  running  into  debt.  Fifty  dollars  behind  the  first 
year ;  more  the  second,  until  now  at  the  beginning  of  the  seventh 
year  since  Nell  and  Bob  had  been  "farming"  they  were  seven 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  and  seventy-three  cents  in  debt. 

The  debts  never  troubled  Bob.  He  would  only  shrug  his 
shoulders  when  Nell  spoke  of  them.  'They  are  better  able  to 
stand  the  loss  than  we  are  to  pay  them,"  he  would  say  carelessly. 
"Anyway,  if  Nell  would  only  listen  to  him  and  get  Gramp  to 
sell  the  blamed  old  farm,  they  would  pay  up  everything  and  go 
to  some  city  where  he,  Bob,  could  make  money.  He  could  make 
money  anywhere." 

That  was  true  enough,  Bob  could.  He  was  a  genius  as  far 
as  being  able  to  do  anything  in  the  line  of  work.  When  a  boy 
he  had  picked  up  telegraphy  in  a  marvellously  short  time,  and 
if  he  would  have  settled  down  to  the  monotonous  life  of  a  tele- 
graph operator  he  would  have  been  a  valuable  employee  of  the 
railroad.  He  had  held  one  situation  once  for  ten  weeks;  then 
bad  thrown  it  up  in  disgust.  He  would  not  waste  his  life  pound- 


20  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

ing  the  keys  for  anybody,  he  said.  Since  then  he  had  often  been 
employed  as  a  "spare"  by  the  company,  filling  a  vacancy  of  a  few 
days  at  a  time,  not  to  exceed  two  weeks  anywhere,  for  he  would 
not  stay  longer.  But  he  was  faithful  while  he  worked,  and  the 
company  would  have  kept  him  in  their  employ  if  he  would  have 
stayed  with  them,  but  that  was  not  Bob's  way. 

Instead  he  liked  to  drift  from  place  to  place.  He  could  always 
strike  work,  for  he  could  do  anything.  He  was  an  expert  team- 
ster, for  he  loved  horses;  he  was  a  competent  "Ja°k  Carpenter," 
and  the  contractors  were  always  glad  of  his  help.  He  could  shoe 
horses,  set  wagon  tires,  file  saws,  was  a  fair  machinist,  keep 
books,  clerk  in  a  store,  brake  on  a  train,  run  a  gasoline  engine 
or  a  dynamo,  and  lately  had  worked  around  a  garage,  learned  to 
run  an  automobile,  and  had  taken  out  a  license.  Knowledge  that 
most  men  have  to  dig  out  by  hard  labor  came  easy  to  him,  so 
easily  that  he  did  not  value  it.  He  had  worked  with  a  veterinary 
surgeon  at  one  time,  and  had  picked  up  so  much  useful  knowl- 
edge about  the  diseases  of  animals  and  the  necessary  remedies 
that  he  was  looked  upon  as  an  authority  by  the  neighborhood. 
Consequently  with  his  great  versatility  of  gifts  he  looked  down 
upon  and  despised  the  people  who  were  content  to  plod  along 
doing  the  same  things  year  after  year.  He  considered  himself 
superior  to  the  rest  of  his  family  and  the  world  in  particular. 
He  was  care  free,  and  prided  himself  upon  being  a  good  fellow, 
though  he  seldom  had  more  than  a  dollar  in  his  pocket,  and  was 
lucky  to  have  more  than  a  change  of  clothes.  He  felt  no  respon- 
sibility toward  the  younger  brothers  and  sisters.  Nell  was  a 
fool  to  stay  on  the  old  farm.  She  could  influence  Gramp  to  sell 
if  she  would,  and  then  they  would  go  to  the  city,  where  the  chil- 
dren could  be  educated,  and  he  would  soon  put  them  in  a  way  to 
be  rich.  Why,  fellows  with  half  his  brains  had  millions.  Just 
give  him  a  few  thousand  to  work  on  and  he  would  wake  up  the 
world.  Then  the  financiers  would  sit  up  and  take  notice. 

Grandpa  had  been  willing  enough  that  she  and  Bob  should  do 
the  farming.  He  was  not  a  natural  farmer,  any  more  than  his 
son  had  been.  Born  and  brought  up  on  the  old  place  which  had 


THE    GRIP    OF    THE    NORMAL.  21 

been  owned  by  seven  generations  of  Beverlys  since  the  first 
Robert  Manning  Beverly  had  migrated  from  England  about 
1680,  he  had  an  inherited  love  and  pride  for  the  farm,  and  for 
his  ancestors  who  had  been  the  first  settlers  in  the  town.  Edu- 
cated at  Yale,  for  many  years  he  had  been  a  professor  in  different 
seminaries  and  academies,  until  obliged  to  retire  on  account  of  a 
throat  trouble;  then  he  had  returned  to  the  farm,  where  his  son 
Jason  had  brought  his  young  wife,  who  was  of  the  same  Beverly 
blood  as  himself,  for  after  several  generations  the  blood  of  the 
oldest  daughter  and  youngest  son  of  the  sixteen  children  had 
mingled  in  the  seven  descendants  of  Jason  and  Helena  Beverly. 
Pre-eminently  a  scholar,  Grandpa  Beverly  would  leave  the  hay- 
field  if  the  translation  of  an  abstruse  Greek  sentence  was  in  his 
mind,  and  there  remain  till  he  had  solved  it  to  his  satisfaction. 
But  with  the  mother  guiding  the  farm  machinery  the  family 
lived  comfortably,  though  not  making  money.  After  she  was 
gone  they  still  kept  things  running  without  contracting  any  debts 
they  could  not  pay,  though  Jason  Beverly  was  always  the  kind 
who  would  run  one  debt  to  pay  another.  "No  man  can  get  rich 
till  he  runs  in  debt,"  was  a  favorite  saying  of  his.  Bob  believed 
it  and  practiced  it,  and  Nell  acquiesced  until  Carlos  was  nearly 
eight  years  old ;  then  she  put  her  foot  down  resolutely.  She  had 
enough  of  wild-cat  schemes.  Hereafter  she  would  pay  up  all 
obligations  and  make  no  more  bills.  One  more  year  of  teaching 
and  the  path  would  be  easier  to  travel. 

The  constant  struggle  during  the  more  than  seven  years  that 
Nell  had  been  mother  to  the  little  family  had  not  embittered  her. 
She  had  faced  each  day  bravely,  doing  the  best  that  lay  in  her 
to  do ;  and  there  had  never  been  a  night  in  all  that  time  when  she 
had  lain  down  to  rest  but  that  she  had  felt  she  had  accomplished 
some  lasting  good,  something  that  would  work  out  in  the  end  for 
the  betterment  of  the  family.  She  had  never  idly  bewailed  her 
lost  youth.  When  other  girls  of  her  age  had  frittered  away  their 
hours  in  gay  pleasures,  she  had  worked  long  days  in  the  school- 
room, where  her  work  had  been  crowned  with  success.  "The  best 
school  in  West  Winthrop"  was  the  verdict  of  the  town  people 


22  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

and  of  the  school  board.  Her  pupils  always  passed  the  entrance 
examinations  to  the  high,  or  passed  from  her  school  into  schools 
of  their  own,  well  grounded  in  the  fundamental  rules  of  learning. 
Grandpa's  library  and  grandpa's  scholarly  brain  had  been  of 
immense  help  to  her;  and  had  made  up  in  part  her  terrible  dis- 
appointment in  not  acquiring  the  higher  education  for  which  her 
soul  had  longed.  She  never  dwelt  on  her  disappointment,  and 
seldom  spoke  of  her  ambition  for  herself.  It  was  no  use.  After 
her  father  had  gone,  and  the  terrible  realization  was  borne  upon 
her,  that  never  for  her  would  the  wide  halls  of  learning  be  opened, 
she  resolutely  buried  her  own  desires  and  planned  for  the  little 
children,  and  with  grandpa's  help  she  had  succeeded.  The  old 
man,  crushed  as  grief  alone  can  crush  the  aged,  had  unselfishly 
put  aside  his  own  personal  sorrow  determining  to  grow  young 
again,  and  help  the  girl  bear  the  load  which  was  bending  her 
young  shoulders  to  the  earth. 

He  had  not  much  money  beside  the  farm;  but  after  another 
marble  shaft  had  been  erected  in  the  silent  city  he  had  freely  put 
his  last  cent  in  the  family  pocketbook,  and  besides  he  had  given 
himself — the  costliest  and  most  precious  gift  of  all.  Mrs.  Green 
had  been  hired  to  do  all  that  Nell  could  not  manage,  and  grandpa 
had  paid  the  bills.  Day  after  day,  when  Nell  with  the  older 
children  had  been  in  the  schoolroom,  he,  with  Kenton  and  little 
Carlos  as  constant  care,  had  worked  in  the  field,  or  done  the 
daily  chores.  Where  grandpa  went  the  two  little  boys  were  also, 
until  old  enough  to  enter  school.  Then  his  burden  was  lighter, 
but  hers  was  just  the  same. 

She  was  thinking  of  all  this  one  drear  windy  day  in  late 
August,  a  day  when  the  golden  rod  flamed  in  the  cold  wind  and 
the  skies  wore  the  gray  of  fall.  Alone,  a  thing  which  she  seldom 
was,  she  had  leisure  for  anxious  thoughts.  Each  year  the  grip 
of  the  Normal  was  tightening  on  the  schools  of  the  land;  thus 
far  she  had  escaped,  owing  partly  to  her  unusual  skill,  and  partly 
to  the  friendship  of  Professor  Trowbridge,  but  she  knew  and 
knew  well,  that  her  chances  for  obtaining  her  school  for  another 
year  were  trembling  in  the  balance.  She  had  held  her  position 


THE    GRIP    OF    THE    NORMAL.  23 

the  past  year  through  Trowbridge's  influence,  against  the  advice 
of  the  State  Board,  which  had  placed  the  adjacent  town  of  Win- 
throp  under  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Normal,  where  their  raw 
graduates  could  win  their  spurs.  Never  had  she  worked  so  hard 
in  her  school  as  she  had  that  past  year — never  had  the  pupils 
done  as  well.  Seven  had  passed  the  examinations  for  the  Win- 
throp  High  without  being  conditioned,  an  unusual  record  for 
country  schools.  With  the  knowledge  of  her  own  capabilities, 
coupled  with  her  dire  necessities,  she  had  persuaded  herself  into 
believing,  and  hoping  against  hope,  with  the  odds  against  her, 
that  she  should  have  the  school  again. 

The  town  and  district  had  been  as  anxious  as  she ;  the  school 
board  had  authorized  Searls  Jackson,  who  was  also  hiring  com- 
mittee, to  make  a  personal  appeal  to  the  Normal  Board.  Joe 
Green  had  gone  to  each  man,  woman  and  child  in  the  district 
with  a  crudely-worded  and  written  "partishun,"  as  he  called  it, 
for  them  to  sign,  and  which  he  had  mailed  to  Trowbridge  himself, 
asking  that  Nell  be  retained.  No  wonder  she  believed  that  she 
could  be  given  one  more  year — just  one  more  year  and  she  would 
be  able  to  struggle  to  her  feet  against  the  heavy  burden  of  debt 
and  family  expenses,  which  were  becoming1  more  and  more 
grievous  every  year. 

The  last  year  she  had  paid  over  a  hundred  in  bills,  and  had 
contracted  none  that  was  heavy.  This  year  she  hoped  to  pay  two 
hundred  at  least  and  run  no  more.  She  could  not  count  on  Bob 
for  anything;  yet  it  was  his  place  as  well  as  hers  to  provide  for 
the  younger  ones,  who  needed  more  and  more.  If  she  could  not 
have  her  school — she  put  the  thought  from  her  resolutely.  She 
must  have  it.  Surely  God  would  influence  the  mighty  ones  who 
held  her  fate  in  the  balance  to  grant  her  one  more  year ;  just  one. 
She  struggled  as  one  struggles  in  a  nightmare  against  the  dread 
that  filled  her  heart  if  the  school  was  taken  away.  Searls  had 
gone  that  day  to  see  about  it.  He  would  surely  bring  good  news. 
She  put  aside  her  forebodings  and  began  to  sort  over  some  old 
papers  in  the  desk.  She  had  some  old  compositions  she  had  writ- 


24  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

ten  when  a  child,  she  wanted  them  for  the  little  boys.    Besides,  it 
would  take  her  mind  away  from  her  worriment. 

A  little  half  sheet  of  old-fashioned  note  paper  slipped  out 
of  her  composition  book.  On  the  outside  was  written  in  big 
letters  "Girls  S.  W.  J."  She  opened  it  wonderingly.  Then  she 
remembered.  The  year  she  was  seven  her  mother  had  taught  the 
school.  Searls,  then  a  boy  of  twelve,  had  been  requested  to  write 
a  composition  on  girls,  and  her  mother  had  always  saved  it.  It 
read:  "Girls  are  silly.  All  but  one.  She  is  N.  B."  That  little 
scrap  of  yellow  paper!  She  remembered  how  often  her  mother 
had  laughed  about  it  as  she  grew  older.  Big,  bashful  Searls,  who 
never  willingly  spoke  to  a  girl  in  his  boyhood.  Perhaps  there 
were  other  little  things  which  her  mother  had  kept.  She  always 
liked  to  treasure  the  funny  things  which  children  unconsciously 
wrote,  and  the  girl  was  glad  that  her  mother  had  saved  that 
brief  screed.  Probably  Searls  had  forgotten  all  about  it.  She 
knew  that  she  had  until  chance  had  brought  it  to  light.  She 
examined  other  papers  and  smiled  over  the  reminiscences  they 
called  forth.  In  one  corner  of  the  drawer  was  a  twisted  bit  of 
paper;  just  such  a  note  as  she  had  often  intercepted  in  her  own 
school  room.  Wondering  what  it  was  she  unfolded  it;  then 
memory  brought  the  circumstances  back  with  a  rush  of  that  day 
when  Searls,  a  blushing  boy,  had  brazenly  tossed  it  to  her  in 
school  in  the  face  of  the  crabbed  old-maid  teacher,  Sarepta  Barry. 
She  remembered  the  ferruling  he  took  with  good  grace  for  dar- 
ing to  do  such  a  thing,  and  how  she  had  been  obliged  to  stand  on 
the  floor  for  the  sin  of  receiving  it.  This  was  the  note,  and  she 
laughed  as  she  read  it: 

"Now  I'm  through  with  this  school, 

To  college  I  shall  fly. 
If  Nell  Beverly  does  not  go — 
To  her  I'll  say  "good  bye/  " 

How  much  that  note  had  meant  to  her  then !  She  was  but  a 
young  girl,  but  the  love  that  had  sprung  in  her  heart  that  day 


THE    GRIP    OF    THE    NORMAL.       ,  25 

had  never  died.  Her  mother  had  been  as  pleased  as  she  with 
the  rhyme.  It  was  the  crude  expression  of  a  boy's  love — but  the 
boy  is  father  to  the  man,  and  love  grows  with  the  years. 

When  she  entered  the  Normal  she  knew  her  mother's  desire, 
that  she  should  fit  herself  to  be  Searls'  equal,  for  with  a  mother's 
unerring  intuition  Mrs.  Beverly  had  read  the  heart  of  the  young 
man.  Although  Nell  had  never  confessed,  even  to  her  inmost 
self,  that  one  of  her  greatest  desires  for  an  education  was  to  fit 
herself  to  be  his  companion,  yet  as  she  sat  with  that  little,  soiled 
twisted  bit  of  paper  in  her  hand  she  knew  that  though  life  had 
dealt  hardly  with  her,  and  she  had  never  attained  the  golden 
heights  of  learning  which  he  had  climbed  so  easily,  yet  she  felt 
that  he  understood  why,  and  that  he  would  not  say  "good-bye"  to 
her  because  the  door  of  opportunity  had  been  shut  in  her  face, 
and  that  the  wide  open  way  of  self  sacrifice  and  duty  had  been  the 
only  path  which  she  had  been  permitted  to  tread. 

A  half  hope  was  springing  in  her  heart.  If  she  taught  one 
more  year,  perhaps  then,  grandpa,  who  had  a  strange  aversion  to 
selling  the  timber  on  the  place,  would  think  better  of  it.  Then 
Lucille,  who  was  a  natural  housekeeper,  could  keep  the  home,  and 
she  would  return  to  the  Normal.  She  was  young  yet.  Two  years 
and  she  could  secure  a  fine  position  after  all.  At  thirty  perhaps 
she  would  be  as  highly  educated  as  Dallas  Gordon,  the  girl  whom, 
the  gossips  said,  desired  her  school. 

Nell  had  always  considered  jealousy  as  a  mark  of  a  low  mind. 
But  she  could  not  help,  for  her  life,  the  feeling  which  crept  into 
her  heart  whenever  she  thought  of  that  girl — the  daughter  of  the 
judge;  the  girl  who  frequently  visited  at  Jackson's  home,  and 
who  in  family,  money,  education,  refinement  and  culture  was  in 
every  way  Searls'  equal.  Never  a  cross  or  burden  had  she  known 
— everything  had  always  come  her  way,  and  now  but  the  trem- 
bling of  the  balance  wheel,  and  the  school,  which  was  hers  by 
right  of  love,  of  sacrifice  and  of  home,  would  pass  into  the  hands 
of  the  town-bred  wealthy  girl  as  an  experiment — a  toy;  and  she 
would  face  misery,  and  self-annihilation,  and  the  grinding,  thank- 
less load  of  paying  debts  which  some  one  else  had  incurred,  besides 


26  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

the  burden  of  educating,  clothing  and  feeding  a  family  of  brothers 
and  sisters;  and  last,  but  not  least,  with  all  chances  of  self- 
improvement  gone,  would  come  the  inevitable  end,  that  with  her 
vanished  youth  she  would  lose  Searls.  He  would  want  a  com- 
panion for  a  wife — not  a  drudge. 

She  thought  of  the  Latin  proverb  grandpa  so  often  quoted: 
"There  is  no  greater  misfortune  than  not  to  be  able  to  bear  mis- 
fortune." She  kissed  the  twisted  scrap  of  paper.  Whatever  the 
future  might  bring  she  would  bear  it  as  she  had  borne  the  past, 
but  she  would  not  give  up  the  school — not  yet. 

The  evening  was  warmer  than  the  day,  for  the  wind  died  down 
to  a  gentle  breeze.  Still  hopeful,  in  the  hush  of  the  twilight, 
Nell  sat  alone  in  the  dusk  of  her  room.  She  was  quite  sure  that 
Searls  would  come  to  her  that  night.  The  last  time  she  had  seen 
him  she  had  felt  that  there  were  words  in  his  heart  which  he 
wished  to  say.  Perhaps,  if  he  brought  her  good  news,  he  would 
say  them.  If  he  did,  she  would  tell  him  her  plans.  Five  years 
would  not  be  long  to  wait.  The  children  would  be  well  grown 
then.  She  smiled  to  herself  in  the  darkness. 

In  the  dusk  she  saw  him  driving  up  the  road.  She  waited 
till  he  stopped  his  horse  before  she  moved.  She  heard  him  speak 
to  Carlos,  who  was  trying  to  teach  the  dog  to  walk  a  ladder. 
Then,  as  the  boy,  too  busy  in  his  play  to  stop,  began  to  scream 
as  if  in  agony,  she  leaned  from  the  window  and  called  to  know 
if  he  was  hurt. 

"No ;  but  the  committee-man  wants  you,"  he  shrilled.  "Stand 
still,  Teddy  won't  you?" 

Searls  had  not  spoken.  She  felt  that  if  it  was  good  news 
he  would  have  called  to  her.  Her  heart  beat  so  violently  that  it 
required  a  strong  effort  to  compose  herself  enough  to  go  down 
the  stairs.  But  she  forced  herself  to  be  brave,  though  she  felt 
as  if  the  world  was  sinking  beneath  her  feet.  She  would  not 
give  up  until  she  was  forced  to  do  so.  She  spoke  cheerfully  as 
she  went  to  the  gate. 

"So  that  is  the  youngster's  method  of  'wireless',  is  it?"  he 


THE    GRIP    OF    THE    NORMAL.  27 

said  smilingly.  "I  did  not  know  but  that  the  dog  had  bitten 
him.  Does  he  have  such  spells  often?" 

"Not  unless  he  is  extra  busy,"  she  answered.  "I  believe  his 
destiny  is  to  be  an  animal  trainer.  He  is  always  teaching  either 
the  cats  or  the  dog,  the  lambs,  the  colt  or  the  calves.  His  latest 
is  the  pig ;  you  ought  to  see  him  smoke  a  pipe.  It  is  too  funny." 
She  forced  a  laugh  though  her  lips  were  dry. 

"Like  his  sister,  a  born  teacher,"  he  returned  gravely. 

She  knew  by  the  tone  of  his  voice.  Her  lips  were  white  as 
she  spoke  huskily :  "Is  it  good  news,  Searls  ?" 

"I  am  afraid  not,  Nell,"  he  replied  slowly.  "I  have  been  to 
see  Trowbridge.  He  says  that  as  long  as  this  town  is  actually 
under  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Normal  School,  the  town  can  engage 
no  more  untrained  teachers.  He  said  he  thought  that  was  clearly 
understood  at  the  July  meeting  of  the  board." 

"Yes,"  she  said  as  he  paused. 

"I  told  him  everything;  that  the  district  wanted  you  and  was 
very  much  opposed  to  a  change ;  also  that  the  town  board  recom- 
mended that  you  be  engaged  for  another  year,  thinking  that  your 
10  years'  experience  would  count  for  as  much  as  the  teaching  of 
an  inexperienced  girl,  even  though  she  had  had  the  Normal  train- 
ing. He  replied  that  the  wishes  of  the  town  or  the  district  had 
nothing  whatever  to  do  with  it.  The  State  had  taken  it  up,  and 
it  was  not  going  to  allow  the  untrained  teachers  to  take  the  places 
of  the  trained  ones  any  longer.  And  he  added  that  there  was 
not  a  man  in  this  town  fitted  to  examine  a  teacher.  He  asked  if 
I  considered  the  farmers,  the  town  butcher,  the  storekeeper  and 
a  horse  trader  capable  of  deciding  who  should  teach  the  coming 
generations." 

"Rather  rough  on  you,  as  you  are  the  horse  trader,"  she  said 
a  little  faintly. 

"But  he  did  not  know  that,  though  it  would  have  made  no 
difference.  Professor  Trowbridge  is  right,  Nell;  there  isn't  a 
man  in  this  town,  unless  it  is  the  minister,  who  is  capable  of 
examining  teachers.  I  am  sorry,  Nell,  on  your  account ;  I've  put 
off  hiring  a  teacher,  hoping  that  the  State  Board  would  let  us 


28  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

make  an  exception  in  your  case.  I  had  a  letter  from  the  State 
Superintendent  to-day,  and  he  said  that  in  view  of  your  efficiency 
and  the  wishes  of  the  district,  he  would  favor  keeping  you  in 
this  school,  if  Trowbridge  agreed ;  but  he  could  do  nothing  unless 
Trowbridge  approved,  as  all  these  schools  are  now  under  the 
Winthrop  Normal  School." 

He  did  not  look  at  the  girl,  but  he  felt  the  misery  which  was 
gripping  her  body  and  soul.  She  held  tightly  to  the  gate,  with 
strong  tense  hands,  her  unseeing  eyes  fixed  upon  the  evening 
stars  glowing  faintly  over  the  dark  hill.  Without  a  school,  her 
school,  where  she  had  spent  ten  years ;  without  the  three  hundred 
and  sixty  dollars  she  would  have  earned  that  year,  what  was 
she  to  do,  with  all  the  children  dependent  upon  her?  She  forced 
herself  to  speak,  but  her  voice  was  dull. 

"Thank  you,  Searls.  I  know  you  have  done  all  you  could.  I 
suppose  we  won't  starve,  but,  but — "  she  dashed  away  the  tears 
and  choked  down  a  dry  sob. 

Then  through  the  tumult  of  emotion  which  filled  the  girl's 
mind  flashed  a  new  thought  like  a  sudden  burst  of  pain. 

"Have  you  engaged  a  teacher?"  She  asked  the  question 
hurriedly. 

"Well,  yes,  I  have,"  he  stammered  hesitatingly. 

"Who  is  she?" 

"Dallas  Gordon,  one  of  this  year's  graduates.  She  won  first 
prize  for  methods  of  teaching  and  physiology,  and  Trowbridge 
considers  her  his  star  pupil.  Perhaps  you  don't  know  her,  but 
she  has  had  all  the  advantages  of  home  and  of  college  training, 
and  is  indeed  a  fine  girl.  She  belongs  here,  too,  and  if  there 
must  be  a  change,  of  course  she  would  suit  our  people  better." 

The  man  spoke  slowly  like  one  who  hesitates  for  words.  His 
eyes  did  not  meet  hers  as  he  spoke,  but  glanced  over  the  house 
and  yard,  where  lay  the  signs  of  grinding  economy  and  hard 
denial  which  were  so  clear  to  him.  Man-like,  he  could  not  under- 
stand ;  could  not  see  how  his  very  words,  as  he  spoke  them,  were 
beating  down  the  last  hope  in  the  girl's  heart,  her  faith  in  his  love 
for  her. 


THE    GRIP    OF    THE    NORMAL.  29 

For  a  moment  Nell  burst  out  in  indignation.  "But  why  should 
she,  who  has  no  trouble  or  care,  who  has  no  need  to  teach,  has 
no  one  depending  upon  her,  have  the  education  and  the  school 
which  are  denied  to  me?  What  have  I  done  that  fate  should 
treat  me  in  this  way?  Why  should  she  take  my  school  and — " 

She  mastered  herself  with  an  effort  as  she  realized  what  she 
was  about  to  say.  Then  the  great  misery  of  her  grief  and  dis- 
appointment flooded  over  her  and  dimmed  her  sight,  and  she 
bowed  her  head  for  support  upon  the  gate.  There  are  times 
when  all  men  and  women  are  tried  as  by  fire,  when  the  dross  is 
burned  away  to  leave  the  gold,  or  else  they  flinch  from  the  heat 
and  leave  the  gold  hidden.  In  these  supreme  moments  smaller 
things  are  forgotten  in  the  great  conflict  which  must  sooner  or 
later  come  between  love  or  selfishness  and  duty,  and  that  was  the 
day  of  testing  for  Nell  Beverly.  The  vision  of  all  that  seemed 
lost  to  her  flashed  through  her  brain;  it  seemed  so  hard  and  so 
cruel.  She  knew  now,  as  never  before,  why  she  had  longed  and 
prayed  for  education  and  training.  It  was  in  order  that  she 
might  be  this  man's  equal.  He  had  never  seemed  so  much  to  her 
before  as  now,  when  this  other  girl,  with  all  the  advantages  which 
God  seemed  to  have  denied  her,  was  to  come  into  his  life. 

The  man  sat  awkwardly  waiting  for  her  to  compose  herself. 
As  he  watched  her  there  flashed  through  his  mind  a  picture  he 
had  seen  of  a  peasant  woman  in  Europe  climbing  a  hill  with  a 
heavy  burden  upon  her  back.  She  had  gone  on  and  on  without 
complaint  when  added  loads  were  strapped  upon  her,  with  the 
great  patience  of  love  and  lifelong  habit.  Once  she  had  been 
young  and  fair,  like  this  girl  who  leaned  upon  the  gate,  but  her 
back  had  been  bent  and  her  beauty  wasted  by  carrying  the  burden 
and  the  sorrows  of  the  world. 

"If  there  is  anything  I  can  do,"  he  began.  The  girl  had 
mastered  herself  at  last.  Her  face  was  white,  but  her  eyes  were 
dry  as  she  raised  her  head.  "I  didn't  mean  to  break  down,"  she 
apologized.  "There  will  be  a  way  out  of  the  wilderness,  I  know ; 
there  always  is,  there  always  has  been." 

"If  there  were  not  so  many  children,"  he  began  awkwardly. 


30  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

"Oh !  don't  say  that,"  she  implored  quickly,  her  voice  thrilling 
with  pain;  "it  hurts  me  to  have  you  say  that;  I  cannot  bear  to 
have  it  said.  It  is  just  exactly  as  if  some  one  said,  Too  bad  there 
are  too  many  kittens,'  and  then  proceeded  to  drown  all  but  one. 
There  are  not  one  too  many  in  my  brood;  mother  gave  them  to 
me,  all  of  them,  the  little  red  baby  and  all,  and  I  have  done  the 
best  I  could  for  them,  and  I  will  do  it  to  the  end.  They  were  all 
I  had,  all  that  mother  could  leave  me  when  God  called  her,  and 
they  are  all  I  have  now." 

The  young  man  was  silent.  In  the  face  of  that  grief  and 
after  that  supreme  struggle  between  love  and  duty  anything  that 
he  might  say  seemed  out  of  place.  He  leaned  from  the  carriage 
seat  and  caught  her  hand. 

"If  there  is  anything  I  can  do,  you  will  let  me  know?" 
"Yes,"  she  said  slowly  and  quietly,  "I  will  let  you  know." 
He  did  not  look  back,  but  she  stood  by  the  gate  until  the  last 
sound  of  the  wheels  had  died  away.  Then  it  seemed  that  with 
that  sound  something  that  she  had  cherished  also  died  within 
her.  It  was  so  hopeless  after  all;  this  hard  life  of  toil  and 
drudgery,  denied  forever  the  right  to  fit  herself  to  be  the 
true  companion  of  the  man  she  loved.  As  she  turned  to  the 
house  at  last  a  twisted  bit  of  paper  crackled  in  the  front  of  her 
shirtwaist.  It  was  the  little  verse  which  Searls  had  written  so 
long  ago,  and  as  she  groped  for  the  handle  of  the  door  to  pass 
in  to  her  hard  duties  her  eyes  were  blurred  with  tears. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  ANCIENT  PROPHECY. 

She  felt  old  and  weary  as  she  went  in  the  house.  Lucille,  now 
a  tall  dignified  girl  of  fifteen,  looked  up  from  her  book,  and  asked 
drily  if  Searls  Jackson  had  been  proposing,  as  the  reason  he  had 
stayed  so  long. 

"Worse  than  that,"  Nell  answered  soberly.  "He  came  to  tell 
me  that  I  could  not  have  the  school." 

Lucille  looked  at  her  steadily;  her  face  growing  almost  as 
pale  as  Nell's.  "Can't  have  the  school  ?"  she  repeated.  Then  she 
added  in  a  strained  voice,  "Whatever  are  we  going  to  do?" 

Nell  shook  her  head  hopelessly. 

"With  no  money  coming  in,  and  all  those  debts,  and  nothing 

but  this  farm  that  does  not  pay — "  continued  Lucille  tragically. 

"What  is  Searls  Jackson  thinking  of  to  not  let  you  have  the 

school?    Didn't  the  district  give  him  the  petition  for  you  to  stay 

,here?" 

"He  isn't  to  blame — it  is  the  State.  I  am  not  trained.  That's 
all  there  is  about  it,"  Nell  answered  resignedly. 

"You  have  been  crying.  I  see  you  have.  It's, a  mean  shame, 
that's  what  it  is.  I'd  like  to  tell  the  old  State,  and  Trowbridge, 
too,  just  what  I  think  about  it,"  said  the  girl  warmly.  "I'm  glad 
that  I  decided  not  to  go  to  their  old  high  school ;  there  would  not 
have  been  any  money  for  it  anyway.  Can  Madaline  go  now  ?" 

Nell  glanced  at  her  younger  sister,  who  had  just  entered  the 
room.  She  had  her  algebra  in  her  hand,  and  had  evidently  been 
studying.  Her  eyes  were  big  with  excitement.  "Don't  say  I 
can't  go  to  the  High,"  she  pleaded,  "don't  say  that,  Nell." 

"We  will  manage  so  that  you  can  go,  Madaline,"  Nell  spoke 
decidedly.  "We  must  give  you  a  chance,  so  you  will  not  be 
crippled  when  you  are  a  woman.  And  Lucille,  we  will  manage 
your  music,  too."  She  was  not  going  to  burden  the  girls  if  she 
could  help  it.  "Has  grandpa  gone  to  bed  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Madaline,  "and  so  have  the  boys,  all  but  Carlos. 
Did  you  want  to  tell  grandpa  what  Searls  said?" 

"Not  to-night,"  Nell  answered  weariedly.    "It  must  be  nearly 


32  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

nine  o'clock.  Perhaps  things  will  look  brighter  in  the  morning. 
I  wish  that  Bob  were  home.  You  girls  would  better  retire  soon. 
No,  I  am  not  going  to  cry,  Lucille,"  she  protested  as  the  girl 
put  her  loving  arms  around  her.  "I — I  was  just  thinking  what 
a  mighty  unfair  place  this  old  world  is  anyway,  and  in  my  cup  it 
has  been  all  of  bitter  and  none  of  sweet." 

Nell  thought  of  all  her  perplexities  as  she  sat  in  the  old 
kitchen  that  night,  with  no  company  but  the  cat  which  purred 
unremittingly  in  her  lap.  Over  and  over  again  she  went  over  the 
bills;  over  and  over  again  she  tried  to  puzzle  a  way  out  of  her 
difficulties,  until  at  last,  as  the  room  grew  chill,  she  realized  that 
she  was  exhausting  herself  to  no  purpose,  and  would  be  better 
off  in  bed.  She  put  the  disgusted  cat  out  at  the  east  door  and 
bolted  it;  then  she  tried  the  two  other  outside  doors,  the  west 
one  which  opened  from  the  sink  room  and  the  front  door,  facing 
the  south,  and  found  that  Lucile  had  locked  them.  Then  as  the 
clock  struck  eleven  she  slowly  climbed  the  stairs  to  the  front 
chamber,  which  she  occupied  with  the  girls.  She  passed  directly 
through  it  to  the  north  room  where  the  three  little  boys  slept. 
The  trundle  bed  had  been  pulled  out  as  usual,  but  Carlos  had 
tumbled  into  it  without  undressing  properly.  He  had  taken  off 
his  shoes  and  his  coat,  and  had  apparently  fallen  fast  asleep 
while  pulling  off  his  stockings.  The  cool  wind  from  the  north 
window  was  blowing  directly  upon  him,  and  his  face  and  arms 
were  cold.  "Croup  to-morrow  night  most  likely,"  observed  Nell, 
as  she  roused  him  enough  to  divest  him  of  his  clothes.  "Won't 
you  ever  learn,  Carlos,  to  undress  yourself  properly?"  she  asked 
as  he  opened  his  sleepy  eyes  when  she  rolled  him  into  the  bed 
and  pulled  the  warm  blanket  over  him.  He  blinked  drowsily  and 
murmured  that  he  was  going  to  make  a  harness  and  hitch  the  pig 
and  dog  together.  "I  shall  call  one  Teddy  and  the  other  Bill 
Bryan  and — and — "  the  last  was  unintelligible,  for  the  little  fellow 
was  in  dreamland  again. 

Nell  looked  at  the  other  boys.  Slender  little  Kenton  was 
curled  up  in  Manning's  protecting  arm,  and  both  slept  peacefully. 
She  pulled  the  quilt  up  over  their  shoulders  and  left  the  room. 


THE    ANCIENT    PROPHECY.  33 

Luciile  woke  as  the  lamp  light  flashed  in  her  eyes.  She  sat  up 
and 'asked  Nell  if  she  had  been  sewing. 

"Not  sewing,  but  thinking.  I  did  not  realize  that  it  was  so 
late." 

"I  have  been  thinking,  too,"  the  girl  rejoined,  "and  perhaps 
to-morrow  we  can  think  together." 

"You  and  grandpa  will  have  to  help  do  the  thinking  after 
this.  I  think  I  will  talk  with  him  awhile  to-night.  His  lamp  is 
still  burning." 

She  crossed  the  little  hall  and  knocked  at  his  door.  "Come 
in,"  he  called,  wheeling  around  in  his  chair  from  his  study  table, 
which  was  littered  with  Greek  and  English  dictionaries  and  some 
Arabic  manuscripts.  "Trying  my  hand  at  my  old  interests, 
Arabic  translations,"  he  said.  "I  am  glad  to  find  that  I  recall  them 
easily  and — "  he  stopped  short  at  the  sight  of  Nell's  distressed 
face.  "What  is  the  trouble  ?"  he  asked,  rising  with  old-fashioned 
courtesy  and  offering  her  his  chair.  "Are  you  sick  ?" 

She  declined  gently.  "Sit  right  in  your  old  place,  grandpa. 
I  will  take  this  old  rocker  and  face  you.  Just  what  you  have 
predicted  has  come  to  pass." 

"The  school?" 

She  nodded.  "I  feel  like  Joe  Green  when  he  said  he  was 
'between  the  old  woman  and  the  devil,  and  didn't  know  which  was 
the  wust.'  Between  debt  and  no  income  what  are  we  going 
to  do?" 

The  old  man  laid  down  his  pencil  carefully  on  the  table.  He 
folded  his  manuscripts  and  put  them  away.  Then  he  leaned  back 
in  his  chair  and  gazed  at  the  girl.  The  rays  of  the  student  lamp 
fell  over  his  fine  intellectual  face  and  scholarly  head,  with  its 
high  dome-like  brow.  He  did  not  look  his  years — his  hair  and 
beard  were  but  little  gray,  his  gray  eyes  bright  and  his  voice 
clear.  A  little  lame,  he  toyed  with  his  cane  while  he  spoke.  "I 
would  suggest  that  timber  being  sold,"  he  said,  "if  it  was  not  for 
the  prophecy." 

"The  prophecy?"  she  repeated.  "I  did  not  know  there  was 
such  a  thing." 


34  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

"Yes,"  he  answered.  "I  have  always  known  of  it,  and  it  is 
written  in  one  of  the  old  journals  that  the  first  Beverly  in  this 
country  kept.  It  relates  to  the  old  trees  on  the  knolls  yonder." 
He  went  to  the  east  window  and  raised  the  curtain.  The  early 
moon  was  flooding  the  flats  which  reached  from  the  house  to  the 
river,  the  eastern  boundary  of  the  farm,  with  silvery  light.  He 
pointed  to  the  knoll  which  raised  itself  like  a  sentinel  on  the  north 
side  of  the  mowing  lot,  and  which  was  crowned  with  majestic 
trees.  To  the  south  of  the  lots  were  other  high  knolls,  like  shoul- 
ders standing  against  the  evening  sky,  with  their  wealth  of  timber 
which  had  never  been  disturbed  by  the  ax. 

"This  is  the  prophecy,"  he  continued.  "When  the  first  Beverly 
purchased  this  land  of  the  Indians  there  was  a  little  half-breed 
Indian  girl  whom  he  adopted.  As  she  grew  up  she  saw  visions 
and  dreamed  dreams.  She  would  spend  hours  by  herself  on  the 
knolls,  but  preferably  the  one  to  the  eastward.  That  is  where 
her  ancestors  had  built  their  tepees,  and  she  loved  each  inch  of 
the  ground  and  every  tree  on  the  knolls  and  flats.  In  one  of  her 
visions  she  uttered  this  prophecy:  „ 

'Into  the  hands  of  the  stranger  shall  the  Beverly  lands  be  gathered 
When  the  ax  lays  low  the  giant  trees  which  rise  on  the  knolls  to 

the  eastward.' 

And  from  father  to  son,"  added  the  old  man,  "we  have  never 
cut  those  trees;  never  a  living  tree  has  fallen  by  the  ax,  and  I 
hope  they  never  will.  The  only  trees  ever  cut  on  this  place  were 
when  this  house  was  built.  The  great  wide  planks  of  the  kitchen 
floor  were  sawn  from  trees  that  grew  in  the  west  pasture,  and 
our  grandfather  always  regretted  having  cut  that  tree.  A  tree 
has  always  been  to  me  like  a  friend.  If  those  trees  should  be 
felled  I  should  mourn  them  like  friends.  It  takes  fifty  years  for 
a  tree  to  grow — the  lifetime  of  millions — and  who  are  we  to 
destroy  them  ?"  he  asked  reverently. 

After  a  pause'  he  continued:  "No,  Nell,  those  trees  must 
never  be  cut.  If  they  do  the  prophecy  will  be  fulfilled.  When 
Bob  has  urged  to  have  them  cut,  I  refused,  but  kept  still,  for  I 


THE    ANCIENT    PROPHECY.  35 

knew  he  would  laugh  at  the  prophecy  and  think  it  a  good  way  to 
get  rid  of  the  farm.     But  I  know  you  do  not  feel  that  way." 

"Indeed  I  do  not,"  she  returned  warmly.  "I  am  glad  I  know 
of  the  prophecy,  and  I  shall  respect  it,  and  I  know  all  the  younger 
children  will  also.  I  know  now  why  all  of  our  wood  has  always 
been  taken  from  the  west  pasture,  though  it  is  so  hilly  and  hard 
to  get  it  there." 

"My  father  set  out  trees  up  there  for  wood.  I  planted  chest- 
nuts and  other  trees,  and  I  want  you  to  do  the  same.  That  is 
why  we  always  have  a  good  wood  lot,  and  if  you  keep  it  up  you 
will  continue  to  have.  Besides,  those  trees  up  on  the  hill  there 
enable  us  to  have  any  crops  at  all  on  the  flats.  If  they  were 
not  there,  the  water  which  pours  down  the  hills  in  heavy  rains 
would  gully  the  earth  down  here  and  wash  everything  away. 
Some  day  New  England  will  appreciate  her  trees.  Our  orchards 
will  be  a  great  thing  for  the  land  also.  We  are  going  to  get 
several  bushels  of  nice  apples  this  year  from  the  old  orchard. 
I  think  I  would  better  get  to  work  on  those  trees  again.  Joe 
Green  would  not  think  I  was  almost  dead  if  he  could  see  the 
orchard  work  I  am  able  to  do,"  he  said,  chuckling  as  he  returned 
to  his  chair. 

"The  trend  of  the  times  is  toward  education,"  he  resumed. 
"I  am  glad  that  it  is,  although  it  comes  very  rough  on  you  now, 
Nell.  I  think  Trowbridge  could  have  listened  to  the  wishes  of 
this  district  and  let  you  remain  in  the  school.  You  have  been 
right  here  for  ten  years,  lacking  one  term,  and  no  other  can  suc- 
cessfully take  your  place.  But  that  is  not  our  business.  The 
question  is,  what  are  you  going  to  do  now?  Wait  for  Bob?" 
he  asked  sarcastically. 

"Hardly,"  she  replied.  "I  am  going  to  see  what  you  and  I 
can  do  with  it  now.  It  used  to  pay  when  you  and  father  ran  it. 
Why  can't  it  again?" 

"It  will  have  to  be  brought  up  to  condition  first.  It  has 
gone  back  dreadfully  in  the  last  six  years.  When  I  was  a  boy 
it  was  the  best  farm  in  the  country.  One  hundred  and  sixty- 
five  acres  ought  to  support  a  family,  I  should  think,  if  properly 


36  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

managed.  But  I  have  been  so  busy  in  my  studies  that  I  have 
not  paid  much  attention  to  farming  these  late  years." 

"I  know  that,  but  I  think  it  is  high  time  that  you  did." 
The  ring  in  her  voice  was  decisive.  "My  mind,  for  all  these 
years  has  been  entirely  on  my  school  during  the  school  year, 
and  in  vacation  on  the  thousand  and  one  things  necessary  in 
caring  for  the  home  and  bringing  up  the  children.  If  it  had 
not  been  for  you,  Grandpa,  I  could  never  have  done  it  after 
Father  went  away  and  Bob  became  reckless.  But  I  won  out 
on  both  home  and  school  problems,  and  I  believe  that  if  you 
and  I  both  work  for  the  farm  as  hard  as  we  worked,  you  in 
helping  keep  the  home  together  and  I  in  the  school  room,  we 
can  at  least  keep  from  contracting  any  more  debts." 

"I  was  always  opposed  to  debts  in  the  first  place,"  said  the 
old  man. 

"I  know  you  were,  and  if  we  had  listened  to  you  in  the 
first  place  we  would  never  have  had  any  bills  to  meet  as  we 
have  now.  I  was  to  blame  in  letting  Bob  make  them.  I  was 
foolish  enough  to  hope  that  the  school  would  go  on  forever, 
and  I  am  almost  glad  that  the  turn  in  the  lane  has  come  now, 
for  I  am  sure  there  is  a  way  out  of  the  wilderness,  and  I  am 
going  to  find  it." 

After  she  had  left  the  old  man  in  the  quiet  east  room,  with 
its  book-lined  walls  on  two  sides  and  family  portraits  of  past 
Beverlys  on  the  other,  she  felt  fairly  hopeful.  She  slept  till 
the  first  gray  light  was  stealing  into  the  south  window,  and  her 
first  conscious  thoughts  were  of  independence.  What  she  was 
to  do  in  the  future  would  be  done  without  any  reference  to  Bob 
whatsoever.  And  as  she  combed  her  hair  before  the  small  old- 
fashioned  mirror  she  saw  her  new  self  shining  in  her  clear 
hazel  eyes.  Within  the  last  ten  hours  she  had  become  a  new 
person.  She  was  neither  crushed  nor  broken-hearted,  but 
resourceful  and  purposeful.  Other  people  made  farming  pay. 
Searls  Jackson  did,  and  even  shiftless  Joe  Green  did  not  accumu- 
late debts.  She  was  going  to  do  as  well  or  know  the  reason 
why.  She  and  she  alone  was  the  hub  of  the  Beverly  wheel. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

PLANNING. 

The  house,  built  about  1750,  stood  with  its  gable  end  toward 
the  road,  which  ran  north  and  south,  having  been  built  that 
way  to  suit  the  ideas  of  the  architects  of  that  time,  who  decreed 
that  the  front  door  should  open  to  the  exact  south.  Hence 
the  "front  door"  of  the  Beverly  farmhouse  opened  into  the 
driveway  which  led  from  the  road  around  the  house  to  the  barn 
and  sheds  on  the  east;  a  big  ugly  carriage  shed  stood  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  driveway,  so  there  was  in  fact  no  front 
yard  at  all  to  the  place.  The  house  was  built  around  the  great 
stone  chimney,  after  the  fashion  of  those  times.  On  opening 
the  south  door  one  entered  a  narrow  front  hall,  from  which 
ascended  a  flight  of  steep  stairs  to  the  chambers,  with  a  cubby- 
hole closet  under  the  stairs.  From  the  east  and  west  ends  of 
the  small  hall,  doors  opened;  the  east  one  leading  into  a  large 
room,  which  was  Bob's  room  when  he  was  home;  directly  over 
it  was  the  grandfather's  private  study  and  chamber.  The  west 
door  led  into  the  front  room  of  the  house,  where  stood  Lucille's 
piano,  and  it  was  woe  to  the  boys  if  they  dared  to  pause  while 
going  through  its  sacred  precincts,  for  in  that  room  she  expended 
all  her  surplus  energy  in  desperate  efforts  to  keep  it  immaculate. 

The  kitchen  opened  from  that  front  room;  a  long  narrow 
dark  room  on  the  north  side  of  the  house;  a  middle  room,  shut 
off  from  the  western  light  by  a  small  room  used  by  the  early 
Beverlys  as  a  bedroom,  and  by  them  as  a  dining  room.  The 
east  door  of  the  kitchen,  a  great  door  wide  as  two  modern 
doors,  opened  into  a  big  east  entry,  which  was  always  wall- 
decorated  with  coats  and  caps;  a  sort  of  stamping-room  from 
the  barn  and  fields,  and  always  the  despair  of  Lucille. 

On  the  northeast  corner  of  the  house  was  built  an  ell,  con- 
taining a  sink  room,  which  opened  to  the  west,  toward  the 
road,  and  consequently  was  the  real  "front  door"  of  the  house. 
Besides  the  sink  room,  the  ell  contained  a  big  square  pantry 


38  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

used  by  the  early  Beverlys  as  a  cheese  and  milk  room,  but  by 
the  present  family  as  a  dairy,  where  stood  the  expensive  sep- 
arator which  Bob  had  insisted  on  buying  three  years  before, 
when  they  stopped  selling  milk  to  the  Boston  Milk  Company 
and  joined  the  creamery  association.  Bob  was  so  sure  they 
would  get  rich  then;  the  cream  would  bring  good  prices,  and 
the  skim-milk  would  fatten  the  calves  and  pigs.  The  project 
looked  good  to  Nell  also;  Searls  made  money  that  way,  but 
they  had  not  managed  well  some  way.  The  cream  check  was 
all  right,  but  their  cows  were  milk  producers  and  not  cream- 
makers,  and  the  pigs  and  calves  really  ate  their  own  heads  off 
before  ready  to  market.  That  venture  had  plunged  them  a 
hundred  in  debt,  and  Nell  had  given  a  note  to  meet  fifty  of  it 
at  Thanksgiving.  She  thought  of  all  this  as  she  descended  to 
the  kitchen. 

The  room  was  cheerless  and  cold  in  the  pale  light  which 
crept  in  the  two  north  windows.  The  wood-box  was  empty,  and 
there  were  no  kindlings.  She  remembered  that  the  boys  had 
been  conjuring  with  some  one  of  Manning's  endless  inventions 
the  previous  night,  and  they  as  well  as  she  had  forgotten  about 
the  wood. 

She  went  out  of  the  east  door,  over  the  wide  neat  wharfing 
which  Grandpa  had  built  around  the  house,  down  the  stone  steps, 
across  the  driveway  to  the  woodpile;  but  as  she  expected  there 
was  not  a  stick  of  wood;  there  seldom  was,  so  she  was  not  dis- 
appointed. A  few  old  fence  rails  and  apple  tree  limbs  were 
scattered  about.  She  lifted  them  on  the  saw-horse,  and  with 
the  dexterity  born  of  frequent  practice  she  sawed  them  up  into 
several  armfuls  of  wood;  then  she  split  up  a  few  shingles  and 
old  boards  for  kindlings  and  returned  to  the  house.  She  soon 
started  the  fire  in  the  big  expensive  range.  That  was  her 
extravagance,  but  she  felt  well  justified  for  having  bought  it, 
for  no  matter  how  bleak  the  Winter  day  the  old  kitchen  was 
always  comfortable.  Lucille  came  down  as  the  breakfast  was 
nearly  ready  and  set  the  dining  room  table.  She  was  full  of 
the  school  subject  but  was  interrupted  by  the  boys,  Manning 


PLANNING.  39 

and  Kenton,  who  rushed  with  a  whoop  through  Bob's  room, 
the  east  entry  and  into  the  kitchen.  Nell  turned  on  them 
abruptly. 

"What  made  you  take  the  longest  way  around?"  she  asked. 
"Why  didn't  you  come  through  the  front  room,  the  way  you 
always  do?" 

"  'Cause  Lucille  had  locked  the  door,"  said  Manning.  "I 
heard  her  turn  the  key — the  old  fuss-budget." 

"What  did  you  do  that  for,  Lucille?"  demanded  Nell  warmly. 

The  girl  drew  herself  up  to  her  full  height  and  answered 
decidedly:  "I  am  not  going  to  have  those  wild  Arabs  racing 
through  that  room  all  the  time,  littering  it  up  as  fast  as  I  clean 
it.  Last  night,  while  you  were  out  talking  to  Jackson,  Man- 
ning brought  in  his  water-wheel  and  Kenton  his  kite:  just  as  if 
there  was  no  other  place  in  the  house  for  them  to  go.  I  drove 
them  out  and  to  bed,  and  they  are  not  going  through  that  room 
again  if  I  can  help  it.  It's  bad  enough  when  you  are  sewing 
in  there  on  the  machine ;  for  they  will  always  go  where  you  are, 
but  when  I  am  boss  they  must  stay  out." 

"And  Bob  raises  the  roof  if  we  go  through  his  room,"  said 
Kenton,  "There  is  no  place  for  us  boys  anywhere." 

"We  can  go  out  the  front  door,  then  come  in  the  east  door, 
I  suppose,"  said  Manning,  "unless  Gramp  kicks  because  we  go 
on  his  boulevard.  That  will  be  fun  in  a  blizzard." 

"The  boys  can  go  from  their  own  bedroom  into  the  attic 
room  over  the  kitchen  and  down  the  back  stairs  into  the  east 
entry,"  declared  Lucille.  "I'm  not  going  to  have  such  big 
boys  racing  through  our  bedroom  after  this;  and  I'm  going  to 
lock  the  door  and  keep  them  out ;  that's  all  there  is  about  it." 

"Lucille  is  right,"  said  Nell  firmly.  "The  way  for  you  boys 
is  down  the  back  stairs,  and  see  that  you  come  that  way,  too. 
And  now,  Lady  Lucille,  you  unlock  the  door  into  the  front  room ; 
both  doors,  too.  The  boys  are  not  going  to  be  shut  out  of  the 
only  decent  room  in  the  house,  but  they  shall  not  litter  it  up.  I 
will  put  my  sewing  machine  in  Bob's  room  to-day.  He  is  here 
so  seldom  that  I  shall  use  that  room  after  this  as  I  need  it ;  and 


i»  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

another  thing,  just  as  soon  as  the  cows  are  milked,  you  boys 
must  get  wood  enough  to  last  all  day.  Not  one  stick  did  I  have 
this  morning." 

Manning  whistled.  "I  forgot  all  about  it,"  he  said  regret- 
fully. "But  say,  Nell,  I've  got  the  dandiest  idea  for  a  water- 
wheel.  I'm  going  to  make  a  dam,  and  then  we  will  flood  the 
flats  and  cut  ice  in  the  Winter.  Won't  that  be  great?  And 
.  you  can  take  your  school  money  and  build  an  icehouse  and " 

"There  won't  be  any  school  money,"  said  Nell,  as  the  four 
sat  down  to  the  table  and  Nell  poured  out  the  coffee.  "You  are 
going  to  have  a  Normal  School  teacher.  Miss  Helena  Ursula 
Beverly  is  passte" 

"That's  a  jolly  idea,"  said  the  boy.  "I  suppose  she  will  be 
like  the  other  Normal  girls  they  have  had  in  this  town,  who 
treated  all  the  children  as  if  they  were  kindergartners  and  let 
them  play.  Bet  a  cookie  she  won't  be  as  strict  with  us  Beverly 
kids  as  you  have  been,  Nell.  I  shall  cut  up  if  I  get  a  chance." 

"No  you  won't,"  Nell  spoke  sternly.  "If  you  do  you  will 
catch  as  much  as  you  ever  did,  when  you  get  home.  You  are 
going  to  help  Miss  Gordon  to  succeed  in  school.  I'm  not  going 
to  have  it  said  that  we  are  playing  the  dog  in  the  manger  over 
this  school.  We  are  not  going  to  criticise  anything,  no  matter 
what  we  think;  and  you  children  have  got  to  behave  just  as  well 
and  better  than  you  ever  did  with  me.  Do  you  understand?" 

The  boys  nodded  and  became  interested  in  their  oatmeal. 
When  Nell  put  on  her  schoolma'am  face  and  spoke  with  her 
schoolroom  voice  the  whole  family  paid  attention.  Grandpa 
came  down  to  breakfast  and  began  to  speak  of  what  he  could 
do  on  the  place.  He  resented  being  called  "old,"  and  neither 
Nell  nor  the  others  ever  referred  to  him  as  feeble.  It  was  a 
favorite  saying  of  his  that  a  man  was  as  young  as  his  arteries; 
and  as  Dr.  Dixson  had  told  him  that  his  arteries  were  like  those 
of  a  man  less  than  sixty,  he  was  wont  to  refer  to  himself 
whimsically  as  a  boy.  "A  man  gets  to  seventy,"  he  would  say, 
"then  he  begins  a  new  life,  if  that  is  the  allotted  time;  hence 


PLANNING.  41 

I  must  be  about  ten  years  old  and  growing  younger  all  the  time, 
right  up  to  twenty-one  again.  Who  knows?" 

"The  other  day,  when  I  was  working  around  those  young 
apple  trees  which  we  recently  purchased,"  he  began,  "Joe  Green 
came  along.  He  remarked  that  I  was  a  fool  to  set  out  trees 
at  my  time  of  life — I  would  never  eat  any  of  the  fruit.  I  told 
him  that  I  did  not  know  about  that — that  I  had  got  so  firmly 
fastened  in  the  habit  of  living  that  I  had  no  notion  of  stopping; 
and  I  thought  my  chances  of  life  were  as  good  as  his,  for  I 
have  never  abused  my  system  with  whisky  and  tobacco.  He 
remembered  just  then  that  his  old  woman  wanted  him,  and  went 
away  muttering  that  whisky  and  tobacco  'never  hurt  nobody/ 
But  I  am  going  to  show  him  now  what  a  young  fellow  like  me 
can  do.  I  shall  not  live  forever,  and " 

"Don't,"  protested  Nell  with  tears  in  her  voice.  "Don't  say 
such  a  dreadful  thing,  Grandpa." 

"But  I  can't,"  he  persisted  dryly.  "What  a  looking  creature 
I  would  be  a  thousand  years  from  now  if  I  kept  on  living! 
All  I  said  was  that  I  should  not  live  forever,  and  you  won't 
either.  I  offered  to  bet  with  Joe  that  I  would  live  twenty  years ; 
that  I  was  as  sure  of  that  as  he  was  of  forty,  but  he  would 
not  take  me  up.  I  am  going  out  now  to  look  over  the  farm  and 
see  what  I  can  do  to  help  push  the  wheel  along." 

Nell  turned  to  the  boys.  "If  you  are  through  with  your 
breakfast  you  must  hurry  to  the  barn  and  do  your  milking. 
The  cows  must  be  turned  out  directly." 

"You  had  better  get  a  hustle  on  you,  Kenton,"  cautioned 
Manning.  "When  Nell  looks  like  two  schoolma'ams  and  speaks 
like  three  it  is  time  the  kids  of  Beverly  took  notice." 

"And  after  milking  the  woodpile  comes  next,"  remarked 
Kenton  mournfully. 

"Not  milking  the  woodpile,  but  the  cows,"  corrected  Man- 
ning cheerfully.  '"Hustle  up,  kid,  for  after  we  get  our  chores 
done  we  can  play,  can't  we,  Nell.  He  has  promised  to  help  with 
my  water-wheel  if  I  help  him  saw  up  the  dead  woodchuck  Ted 
killed  yesterday." 


42  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

Nell  promised  laughingly,  and  with  a  shout  the  boys  raced 
to  the  barn.  Manning  separated  the  milk  with  the  help  of 
Lucille.  "Two  of  the  cows  do  not  give  enough  milk  to  pay  for 
their  feed,"  she  observed.  "We  ought  to  sell  them  and  buy  new 
ones." 

"I  wish  they  were  not  driven  right  past  our  front  door  every 
time  they  are  turned  to  the  west  pasture,"  Lucille  fretted. 
"There  is  not  another  place  in  town  where  cows  promenade 
twice  a  day  in  the  front  yard  as  they  do  here.  Can't  they  be 
turned  out  the  back  way?  I  know  that  I  can  fix  up  the  bars 
which  lead  into  the  lower  lot  if  you  will  let  me  do  it,  so  they 
could  go  that  way,  and  then  drive  them  through  the  north  lot 
to  the  road.  Bob  always  said  there  was  no  use  in  their  going 
that  way,  it  would  spoil  the  grass ;  but  the  grass  there  now  won't 
hurt,  and  I  don't  think  he  should  be  boss  anyway." 

"You  can  get  the  boys  to  help  you  and  fix  the  bars  to  suit 
yourself,"  Nell  agreed.  "After  this,  Lucille,  whatever  we  do 
on  this  place  shall  be  done  independently  of  Bob.  I  feel  as  if 
I  had  signed  a  Declaration  of  Independence  since  last  night.  I 
will  get  Madaline  up  to  help  do  the  work,  and  you  look  after 
the  boys  at  the  barn." 

"I  fed  the  horses  as  soon  as  I  got  up,"  said  the  girl,  "and 
I  will  turn  them  into  the  south  lot  with  Blanchie.  She  will  be 
the  best  horse  we  have  ever  had  yet,  Nell.  And  Carlos  has 
already  taught  her  to  shake  hands  and  bow  her  head.  I  think 
you  had  better  make  him  and  Madaline  get  up.  There  is  no 
sense  in  their  staying  abed  all  the  morning." 

Lucille  took  hammer  and  nails  and  started  to  the  bar-build- 
ing. Nell  heard  her  talking  enthusiastically  with  the  boys,  who 
had  begun  work  on  the  woodpile.  Then  she  called  Madaline, 
who  came  down  languidly  with  a  Greek  grammar  in  her  hand. 
"I  took  this  out  of  Grandpa's  study  last  night,  and  I  have  been 
studying  it  for  quite  awhile  in  bed,"  she  explained. 

"And  now  you  will  have  to  study  dishes  and  brooms  for 


PLANNING.  43 

awhile  if  you  expect  me  to  sew  on  your  dress.  Did  you  call 
Carlos?" 

"I  looked  into  the  boys'  room,  but  he  wasn't  in  the  trundle 
bed.  I  thought  he  had  got  up;  his  clothes  are  gone." 

"Then  he  must  be  in  them."  Nell  went  to  the  east  door  and 
called  his  name.  An  answering  "yes"  came  from  the  swill 
house,  and  the  small  boy  appeared  a  moment  later.  "I  was 
teaching  the  pig  to  jump  the  rope,"  he  called  back  hoarsely. 

"Of  all  things !"  Nell  made  a  dash  for  him,  brought  him 
into  the  house  without  ceremony,  thoroughly  greased  his  throat 
and  chest,  dosed  him  with  croup  medicine  and  set  him  down  at 
the  breakfast  table  before  he  realized  what  had  happened.  Then 
she  issued  orders.  He  was  not  to  play  out  doors  at  all  that  day, 
but  he  could  have  the  dog  in  the  east  entry  and  teach  him  all 
the  tricks  he  wanted  to.  He  begged  for  the  pig,  but  Nell  was 
firm.  "Lucille  would  simply  die  if  we  brought  Nero  into  the 
house,"  she  said.  "The  idea  of  having  a  dirty  pig  in  here;  the 
dog  and  lambs  are  bad  enough,  and  after  you  get  through  with 
Teddy,  Madaline  will  bring  Buster  and  Bruiser  if  you  want 
them." 

The  boy  capitulated  reluctantly.  "I  like  to  teach  Nero  the 
best  of  them  all,  and  he  isn't  dirty;  he  is  just  as  clean  as  any 
old  girl  when  he  is  washed,"  he  grumbled,  but  he  had  to  give 
in  to  Nell's  orders,  and  make  the  best  of  a  day's  confinement 
to  ward  off  his  frequent  affliction — the  croup. 

Nell  was  eager  to  begin  work  on  the  farm,  to  do  something 
to  make  it  pay,  but  her  hands  were  full  of  other  tasks  that  day. 
Madaline  reluctantly  and  languidly  did  the  housework.  She 
hated  it,  but  Nell  could  not  be  disobeyed,  and  besides  she  was 
sewing  for  her.  Grandpa  spent  the  morning  in  going  over  the 
farm,  leaving  his  study  entirely  alone,  and  he  announced  to  Nell 
at  noon  that  he  was  going  to  set  out  a  new  strawberry  bed,  and 
trim  up  the  long  rows  of  currant,  raspberry,  and  blackberry 
bushes,  for  he  believed  that  they  could  make  that  fruit  pay  with 
proper  cultivation.  Nell  heartily  agreed  with  him,  and  after 


44  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

dinner  he  began  work  eagerly  in  the  long  neglected  strawberry 
bed.  Lucille  and  the  boys  had  conjured  up  a  fair  pair  of  bars, 
so  that  the  cattle  could  be  turned  out  through  the  barnyard.  The 
boys  rilled  the  woodbox ;  then  went  off  to  their  play.  Lucille  sat 
down  with  Nell  at  the  sewing  machine  in  Bob's  room,  and  began 
to  plan  with  her  how  the  expenses  should  be  cut  down  and  the 
bills  paid.  Madaline  amused  Carlos,  who  was  not  sick  enough 
to  appreciate  being  kept  in,  and  yet  not  well  enough  to  play  out 
doors.  The  older  sister  was  surprised  at  the  womanly  view  the 
fifteen-year-old  girl  took  of  the  situation.  The  other  children 
did  not  realize  that  there  would  be  no  more  money  coming  in 
regularly  to  supply  their  wants,  but  Lucille  did,  and  was  troubled. 

"I  think,"  she  said  abruptly,  "that  you  ought  to  sell  two  of 
the  cows.  The  cream  we  would  get  from  their  milk  would  not 
pay  for  their  grain,  and  besides  the  hay  will  give  out  before 
Spring.  And  I  think  it  would  be  well  to  turn  off  four  or  five 
sheep.  You  know  you  spoke  of  this  to  Bob  in  the  Summer." 

"Yes,  but  he  opposed,  and  said  it  was  giving  things  away  to 
sell  in  the  Fall,  but  I  have  been  thinking  the  same  way  this 
morning.  If  Carlos  had  not  been  half-sick  to-day  I  should  have 
gone  to  see  if  I  could  not  have  turned  the  cows  on  that  note. 
You  know  that  must  be  paid  by  Thanksgiving." 

Lucille  nodded.  She  drew  a  letter  from  her  pocket.  "This 
was  in  the  mail  to-day.  I  hated  to  show  it  to  you,  but  I  have 
to  give  it  to  you  I  suppose.  I  opened  it." 

Nell's  face  paled  as  she  read  it.  Two  years  before  Bob  had 
persuaded  her  to  go  into  the  poultry  business.  Incubators  and 
brooders  had  been  bought,  purebred  stock  purchased,  and  of 
course  she  had  given  her  note.  It  had  all  been  paid  but  thirty- 
seven  dollars,  which  was  on  demand.  The  "demand"  had  come 
and  there  was  no  money. 

"Mr.  Marsh  must  have  heard  that  I  could  not  have  the 
school,"  she  said.  "That  is  the  way  with  these  men ;  they  always 
jump  on  a  person  when  he  is  down.  Whatever  am  I  to  do, 
Lucille?"  she  asked  helplessly.  "With  seven  to  care  for,  their. 


PLANNING.  46 

food  and  clothing,  the  expenses  of  the  farm,  a  run-down  farm, 
too;  these  bills  to  be  paid,  and  no  money.  Debt  is  the  worst 
thing  in  the  world,  and  I  will  never,  never  run  in  debt  a  cent 
again.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  a  millstone  around  my  neck  crushing 
me  to  the  ground." 

The  girl  had  no  advice  to  give.  Outside  in  the  east  entry 
they  heard  Madaliue's  clear  voice  and  Carlos'  hoarse  tones  as 
they  played  with  the  lambs.  The  warm  August  wind  came  in 
through  the  window  screens,  and  the  flies  buzzed  fretfully  out- 
side. Nell's  eyes  listlessly  traversed  the  western  side  of  the 
panelled  room,  and  lingered  on  the  great  feathery  bunches  of 
asparagus  in  the  empty  grate,  then  followed  the  heavy  beams 
along  the  low  ceilings  and  the  Summer-tree  stretching  straight 
across  from  east  to  west.  Madaline's  new  dress,  a  pretty  per- 
cale, lay  on  Bob's  bed.  It  seemed  to  stare  up  at  the  Summer- 
tree  even  as  she  stared  at  it.  She  spoke  her  whimsical  thought 
to  Lucille.  "That  dress  seems  to  wonder  as  much  as  I  do 
where  the  money  is  coming  from  to  meet  the  debts.  I  wish  that 
Summer-tree  could  speak." 

"We  would  be  scared  if  it  did,"  said  Lucille  practically.  "I 
was  wishing  we  had  some  of  the  money  which  was  spent  in  panel- 
ling this  wall.  Do  you  suppose  the  old  Beverlys  had  such  trouble 
as  this?" 

"No,  for  they  never  ran  in  debt.  I  remember  that  Grandpa 
said  no  Beverly  for  a  hundred  years  had  contracted  bills  till  we 
did,  and  if  I  have  my  way  no  Beverly  shall  for  the  next  hundred." 

"This  Beverly  won't,"  the  girl  answered  confidently. 

"If  I  thought  it  was  safe  to  leave  Carlos  with  you  I  would  go 
this  afternoon  and  see  about  selling  one  of  the  cows.  We  must 
pay  something  on  the  grocery  bill  anyway,  and  manage  not  to 
run  any  more  bills.  We  must  cut  out  everything  we  can,  and 
plan  to  economize  closer  than  we  ever  did ;  though  it  has  always 
been  economizing  ever  since  I  was  your  age.  What  do  you  say  ? 
Do  you  think  you  can  look  after  Carlos  and  keep  him  from  going 
out  doors?" 

"No !"    Lucille's  tone  was  tragic.    "I  can't  look  after  him.     I 


46  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

could  keep  him  in  the  house,  but  you  would  not  be  out  of  sight 
before  either  Grandpa  or  Madaline  would  bring  in  Nero,  if  he 
asked  for  it.  It's  bad  enough  for  him  to  have  the  lambs  in  the 
east  entry,  but  he  shan't  have  the  pig." 

Nell  laughed.  "Well,  I  guess  one  day  will  not  make  such  an 
awful  sight  of  difference,  so  I  will  stay  at  home  myself  in  order 
to  keep  the  pig  out  of  the  parlor.  Some  one  has  driven  in  the 
yard.  Who  is  it?  Another  bill  collector?" 

"It  is  Joe  Green,"  Lucille  answered,  looking  out  of  the  window. 
"He  is  hitching  his  horse  to  the  shed." 

"Let  him  in  the  front  door;  unlatch  the  screen,"  Nell  ordered 
nervously.  "I  don't  want  him  coming  through  the  east  entry 
where  the  lambs  are.  He  would  tell  his  wife,  and  she  would  have 
another  canniption  over  my  slackness.  I'll  see  him  in  the  front 
room."  She  gathered  up  her  sewing  and  darted  through  the  hall. 

Lucille  unsmilingly  opened  the  door.  The  big  burly  man, 
with  a  breath  redolent  of  cheap  whisky,  slouched  past  her  with 
a  sickly  grin,  and  settled  heavily  into  a  chair  by  the  door.  Nell 
remained  standing,  waiting  for  him  to  speak.  He  fumbled  with 
his  hands ;  then  muttered  that  he  had  heard  she  was  not  going  to 
have  the  school. 

"Yes,"    Nell's  tone  was  quiet. 

"And  I  think  and  everybody  thinks  that  it's  a  mighty  mean 
turn-down  Searls  Jackson  has  give  you,"  he  continued  loqua- 
ciously. "Folks  is  sayin'  that  that  Gordon  girl  is  going  to  have 
it,  and  that  she  is  going  to  board  there.  There's  money  in  the 
Gordon  family,  and  as  Mis'  Jackson  and  Mis'  Gordon  was  school- 
mates tain't  nowise  likely  but  that  Jackson  will  be  a  marryin'  her, 
and—" 

"What  did  you  want  to  see  me  about,  Joe?"  Nell  interrupted. 
Her  face  had  grown  white,  and  Lucille  restrained  a  strong  desire 
to  invite  the  man  to  leave  the  room. 

"That's  what  everybody  is  sayin',"  he  continued  with  an 
apologetic  grin.  "And  everybody  is  sorry  for  you,  Nell.  Them 
darned  Normalers  don't  know  nothin'.  Guess  now  the  Flats 
school  will  go  to  the  dogs.  What  did  I  want  to  see  you  about? 
Oh,  about  my  pay.  You  know  I  wuz  to  have  it  Thanksgiving, 


PLANNING.  47 

but  the  old  woman  sez,  sez  she,  'Joe/  sez  sne»  'tain't  nowise  likely 
Nell  Beverly  will  have  it  at  Thanksgiving,  and  as  we  need  another 
cow/  she  sez,  sez  she,  'you  ask  her  if  we  can't  have  the  Jersey 
right  away;  it  will  jest  settle  the  bill,  so  I  stopped  in  here,  on  my 
way  back  frum  Winthrop,  to  find  out." 

"I  will  talk  it  over  with  Grandpa,"  the  girl  replied  slowly.  "I 
was  planning  to-day  how  I  could  pay  you.  I  know  your  bill  has 
run  ever  since  Spring.  I  will  let  you  know  in  the  morning." 

"And  as  soon  as  that's  paid  I'll  do  your  Fall  work  if  you  want 
me  too,"  he  said  rising.  "I  don't  want  to  be  hard  on  you,  Nell, 
but  you  know  I  am  a  poor  man,  and — and — the  old  woman — 
and — "  he  stopped  confusedly. 

"I  know.  Good-day.  Lucille,  be  sure  to  latch  the  screen,  the 
wind  blows  the  door  open,  you  know."  She  walked  firmly  from 
the  room,  into  the  little  dining-room,  and  stared  blindly  out  of 
the  window.  Lucille  returned  to  her  immediately  after  she  had 
gravely  latched  the  door.  "It's  a  good  thing  both  windows  were 
opened  all  the  time,  or  I  should  have  had  to  burn  coals  on  a 
shovel  in  order  to  fumigate  the  room,  after  that  whisky-whim- 
perer," she  said  scornfully.  She  put  her  arms  around  her  sister. 
"Are  you  looking  at  the  cows  ?"  she  asked.  "They  are  all  feeding 
there  on  the  brow  of  the  hill." 

"I  did  not  see  them,"  Nell  replied.  "I  did  not  see  anything. 
I  was  wondering  why  God  ever  created  me ;  why  He  ever  placed 
so  many  burdens  on  my  shoulders.  Lucille,  if  we  let  him  have 
the  Jersey,  it  will  cut  our  cream  check  almost  half.  She  is  the 
best  cow." 

"How  much  do  we  owe  him?" 

"Just  what  the  cow  is  worth.  He  offers  a  fair  price.  I  shall 
have  to  let  her  go." 

"Or  we  can't  get  him  to  do  the  Fall  work  ?"  the  girl  asked. 

"Not  that.  For  we  must  do  the  work  ourselves ;  but  because 
he  must  have  his  pay.  I  wonder  who  will  come  dunning  next." 

After  the  children  had  gone  to  bed  that  night  she  talked  it 
over  with  Grandpa.  At  first  he  was  opposed,  but  he  finally 
agreed.  There  was  some  fine  young  stock  coming  on  another 
year,  and  he  thought  they  were  not  so  very  badly  off  after  all. 


48  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

He  was  sure  that  he  could  do  a  good  amount  of  the  Fall  work 
himself,  and  when  the  girl  went  to  bed  she  felt  more  hopeful  of 
the  future. 

She  had  taken  Carlos  into  her  bed  that  night,  for  she  was 
fearful  of  the  croup.  The  first  brassy  cough  roused  her  from  her 
slumber.  The  attack  had  come,  but  it  proved  to  be  light.  She 
worked  quickly,  and  in  an  hour  the  boy  was  much  better,  but  it 
was  near  morning  before  she  dared  to  trust  herself  to  go  to 
sleep.  When  she  woke  the  clock  was  striking  seven.  She  started 
guiltily.  When  had  she  ever  slept  so  late  before?  The  opposite 
bed  was  empty;  both  girls  had  gone  down  stairs.  By  her  side 
Carlos  was  still  sleeping  quietly.  He  smelt  strongly  of  skunk's 
grease,  but  his  breathing  was  natural.  She  looked  in  the  boys' 
room  after  she  had  dressed.  It  was  empty.  Lucille  had  man- 
aged so  that  she  should  have  a  long  rest.  Madaline  came  softly 
up  the  stairs  a  moment  later.  "Joe  Green  has  come  again  and 
wants  to  know  about  the  cow,"  she  said.  "He  is  out  in  the  road." 

Nell  lifted  the  curtain  and  called  to  him.  "You  may  have  the 
cow  after  the  first  of  September,  but  not  before." 

"It's  all  right  as  far  as  I'm  concerned,  but  the  old  woman — " 

"The  old  woman  is  not  working  for  me,  and  you  will  take  her 
then  or  not  get  her  at  all,"  she  interrupted  decisively,  turning 
away  from  the  window. 

"His  old  woman  will  give  him  fits,"  laughed  Madaline. 

"I'm  all  right  now,"  piped  Carlos  from  the  bed.  "Can't  I  take 
this  old  rag  off  my  throat?" 

"I  did  not  know  you  were  awake,"  said  Nell,  turning  back. 
"I  will  see  how  you  are  after  you  say  your  prayers." 

"I  heard  your  schoolma'am  voice,"  said  the  boy.  "Was  it 
the  skunk's  grease  that  cured  me,  Nell,  and  shall  I  say  in  my 
prayer  that  I  am  thankful  for  skunks?" 

"If  you  like,"  laughed  Nell.  "I  think  the  Lord  will  under- 
stand you.  Madaline,  you  help  him  get  dressed." 

"And  I'm  going  to  try  to  catch  a  baby  skunk  and  teach  it 
tricks,"  he  called  after  her  as  she  went  down  stairs. 

Lucille  greeted  her  smilingly.  "You  are  a  lazy  girl,  Nell. 
Breakfast  over  an  hour  ago,  but  I've  kept  yours  hot.  I  heard 


PLANNING.  49 

you  disciplining  Joe  Green.  Why  don't  you  let  the  cow  go  now  ?" 
"On  account  of  the  cream  check.  It's  only  five  days  more, 
and  I  need  all  the  money  I  can  get.  Carlos  seems  to  be  all  right 
now,  and  to-day  I  mean  to  begin  to  run  the  farm  in  earnest.  By 
having  forethought  and  care  I  saved  Carlos  from  a  severe  attack 
of  croup;  and  I  do  not  see  why  the  same  forethought  and  care 
applied  to  the  farm  will  not  work  out  our  salvation.  I'm  going  to 
be  the  farmer,  and  I  will  let  you  be  the  housekeeper." 

"Good,"  said  the  girl.  "I've  been  thinking  of  lots  of  things 
I  can  cook  cheaply  and  so  save  part  of  our  grocery  bills.  Will 
you  let  me  go  ahead  as  I  like?" 

"Do  what  you  like,  my  dear.  I  am  the  H.  U.  B.  of  the  Beverly 
wheel,  and  you  will  be  the  main  spoke.  I've  decided  that  Bob  is 
to  be  out  of  the  running.  We  will  sink  or  swim  on  our  own 
responsibility." 


CHAPTER  V. 

BOB. 

Nell  reasoned  that  if  she  applied  the  same  force  of  thought  to 
the  farm  problems  that  for  ten  years  she  had  used  in  the  solving 
of  Greenleafs  brain  twisters  in  the  National  Arithmetic,  she 
ought  to  find  the  solution  to  them  all  in  time.  There  was  a 
masculine  bent  to  her  brain  inherited  from  a  long  line  of  brainy 
ancestry.  Her  position,  since  her  parents'  death,  of  breadwinner 
for  seven  had  intensified  that  faculty,  so  that  now  she  was  able 
to  face  the  complex  situation  better  than  most  women  could  do. 
With  Grandpa  and  Lucille  as  her  right  and  left  arms  she  felt 
able  to  meet  all  obligations  if  she  was  only  granted  sufficient 
time.  Everywhere  she  went,  she  found  people  were  sympathiz- 
ing with  her;  her  heaviest  creditors  were  willing  to  help  her  all 
that  they  could,  by  not  pressing  her  for  money.  The  grocer,  to 
whom  they  were  owing  a  bill  which  had  been  accumulating  for 
five  years,  was  kindness  itself.  He  hesitated  about  accepting  the 
heifer  which  Nell  urged  him  to  apply  on  the  bill,  but  finally  did, 
when  he  found  that  she  was  obdurate  about  paying  him  that 
amount  at  least.  "Grain  is  so  high  and  our  hay  crop  was  light 
this  year,"  she  explained.  "If  I  keep  this  stock  I  shall  have  to 
buy  hay  before  Spring,  and  that  I  cannot  afford  to  do,  so  I  am 
saving  money  by  turning  off  the  stock  now."  So  he  credited  her 
the  price  of  the  heifer,  and  one  bill  was  lowered. 

Those  were  busy  days  before  the  first  of  September.  By 
selling  a  few  sheep  and  calves,  three  of  the  pigs,  and  turning 
the  Jersey  cow  over  to  Joe  Green,  she  was  able  to  raise  the  money 
to  pay  the  most  pressing  of  the  bills.  There  was  but  fifty  dollars 
more  which  had  to  be  met  that  year,  and  that  she  had  determined 
Bob  should  help  pay.  It  was  not  fair  that  he  should  skirk 
everything  on  her  shoulders. 

Madaline  started  in  at  the  High  School  the  first  Tuesday  in 
September.  Other  pupils  from  the  neighborhood  were  entering, 
and  by  an  arrangement  with  the  different  families,  each  family 


BOB.  51 

carried  the  pupils  back  and  forth  for  a  week  at  a  time,  from  the 
railroad  depot  three  miles  away.  They  had  taken  the  first  week, 
and  when  Lucille  returned  the  first  morning  she  brought  back 
Bob,  who  had  left  the  city  on  the  early  train. 

Nell  was  always  apprehensive  about  his  return  from  any  town, 
for  she  never  knew  how  he  would  appear.  She  seldom  let  the 
children  meet  him,  as  it  had  been  a  matter  of  pride  with  her  to 
keep  them  from  knowing  that  he  drank;  but  that  morning  it 
could  not  be  avoided.  He  was  not  drunk,  just  excited,  and  he 
did  not  have  sense  enough  to  hide  it  from  Lucille,  whose  sense 
of  propriety  and  respectability  was  so  outraged  that  she  would 
neither  speak  to  him  nor  look  at  him  during  the  ride  home. 
"Look  after  the  beast;  I  won't,"  she  said  in  withering  tones  to 
Nell,  when  she  drove  in  the  yard.  Bob's  handsome  face  flushed 
with  the  taunt.  Her  abhorrence  was  sobering  him,  and  he  felt 
ashamed  enough  to  crawl  out  of  sight.  Nell  treated  him  as  usual, 
calmly  arid  apparently  not  noticing,  but  the  man  knew  that  he  had 
forever  disgraced  himself  in  the  eyes  of  Lucille.  "Lady  Lucille" 
he  always  called  her.  She  was  his  ideal.  Calm,  dignified  and 
exquisitely  neat,  he  valued  her  good  opinion  above  everyone's 
else.  "What  in  fury's  name  did  you  let  her  go  to  the  station 
for?"  he  growled  savagely  at  Nell. 

She  did  not  answer  him.  Instead  she  went  to  the  girl,  who 
had  thrown  herself  on  her  bed  choking  with  sobs.  Bob  waited 
around  a  short  time.  The  girls  did  not  appear,  so  he  flung  him- 
self savagely  into  the  barn,  and  climbing  on  the  mow,  he  stayed 
there  till  he  had  slept  off  the  effect  of  his  midnight  supper  with 
the  boys.  He  appeared  at  the  supper  table,  and  no  reference  was 
made  to  the  morning.  Lucille  was  frigidly  polite,  Nell  as  pleas- 
ant as  ever,  and  the  younger  children  and  Grandpa  thought  he 
had  just  returned. 

He  knew  nothing  of  the  change  in  the  family  prospects.  He 
had  had  a  streak  of  luck,  and  was  well  dressed.  He  always 
appeared  prosperous  and  dapper,  and  was  quite  a  hero  to  the 
small  brothers.  He  had  been  generous  that  time,  and  had  bought 
new  shoes  all  around  for  each  of  the  children,  including  Nell. 
There  were  also  new  ribbons  for  the  girls  and  a  magazine  for 


52  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

Gramp.  He  felt  well  satisfied  with  himself,  and  considered  that 
the  family  should  be  also. 

Lucille  thawed  slightly  over  her  presents.  They  were  badly 
needed,  and  Nell  was  very  grateful.  She  had  a  long  talk  with 
him  that  evening.  He  had  always  opposed  everything  that  she 
had  proposed  as  a  matter  of  principle,  and  consequently  she 
knew  that  he  would  disapprove  of  what  she  had  done.  And  he 
did  disapprove,  and  that  mightily.  She  had  no  business  to  do 
things  without  consulting  him.  He  was  the  man  of  the  house, 
for  Grandpa  did  not  count.  What  they  must  do  immediately 
was  to  get  Grandpa  to  sell  the  farm;  he  could  find  a  purchaser 
immediately.  Nell's  refusal  to  do  that  angered  him,  as  it  always 
had  done;  and  then  he  declared  that  if  she  was  so  mighty  inde- 
pendent she  could  stay  there  and  starve  for  all  him.  He  would 
look  after  Lucille  and  Carlos.  They  were  the  only  ones  in  the 
family  worth  caring  for  anyway. 

"I  hardly  think  Lucille  will  accept  your  care  after  what  she 
saw  to-day,"  Nell  remarked  quietly. 

"That  was  a  put-up  job,"  he  growled  savagely.  "You  knew  I 
was  coming  home,  and  besides  you  have  always  set  the  children 
up  against  me ;  it's  your  old  trick  and — " 

"Have  a  care,  Bob,"  Nell  warned.  "I  have  taken  all  that  kind 
of  talk  from  you  that  I  ever  shall.  You  know  what  you  say  is 
false,  and  you  must  never  say  those  words  again."  In  the  moon- 
light flooding  the  kitchen  she  appeared  like  their  mother,  as  she 
stood  tall  and  slender  before  him.  Her  voice  had  the  same 
decisive  ring,  and  in  spite  of  himself  the  young  man  felt  awed 
and  humiliated.  It  was  the  same  voice  and  manner  which  suc- 
cessfully ruled  the  turbulent  ones  in  school;  consequently,  like 
the  big  boy  he  was,  he  hedged : 

"Oh,  come  off,  Nell,  from  your  high  perch.  This  is  no  school 
room,  and  I'm  not  a  kid  you  can  shake.  I  wish  you  would 
shut  the  east  entry  door  and  light  the  lamp.  I  don't  like  so  much 
moonlight;  it's  uncanny." 

"I  prefer  to  save  oil  on  such  a  night,  and  the  moonlight  is 
perfect.  It  is  not  often  we  get  it  here  in  the  kitchen,"  she 
returned  briefly. 


BOB.  63 

"If  you  ever  went  anywhere  instead  of  staying  cooped  up  on 
this  old  farm  year  in  and  year  out,  you  would  not  see  anything 
so  horrible  in  what  I  have  done,"  he  began  again.  "A  young  fel- 
low must  have  his  fling ;  and  last  night  a  few  of  us  who  had  been 
at  the  Beach  till  it  wound  up  for  the  season  got  together  for  a 
night.  Hang  it  all,  Nell,  I've  got  to  be  a  good  fellow  with  the 
rest  of  them." 

"How  about  being  a  good  brother?"  she  questioned  calmly. 

He  hedged  again.  "I  am  a  good  brother.  Didn't  I  bring 
home  the  Winter's  shoes,  and  haven't  I  always  looked  after  that 
part  of  the  kids'  clothing?  Why,  those  seven  pairs  of  shoes  and 
the  other  things  cost  twenty  dollars.  If  that  isn't  generous,  what 
is?"  He  spoke  grandly,  and  marched  complacently  back  and 
forth  through  the  room. 

"I  appreciate  everything  you  have  done,  Bob,  everything; 
and  so  do  all  of  us.  But  where  you  have  put  in  fifty  dollars  a 
year  toward  the  support  I  have  put  in  myself  and  all  I  have 
earned.  That's  the  difference.  And  now  I  want  to  know  if  you 
are  going  to  put  in  four  times  fifty,  as  you  are  perfectly  capable 
of  doing.  There  are  not  many  who  can  earn  the  money  you  can, 
in  as  many  ways." 

"If  you*  would  sell  the  blamed  old  farm  and  let  me  have  my 
way  I  would  support  every  one  of  you ;  but  as  long  as  you  won't 
I'm  not  going  to  drudge  my  life  out  and  not  enjoy  myself  while 
I  am  young,"  he  returned  selfishly.  "But  I  will  do  one  more 
thing  on  the  farm  if  you  will  agree.  If  you  will  get  Gramp  to 
sell  those  big  trees  on  the  knoll  so  as  to  raise  the  money,  or  else 
mortgage  the  farm  for  it,  if  he  won't  sell  the  trees,  I  will  buy 
one  of  those  portable  sawmills  and  teams  and  then  buy  up  wood 
lots,  and  cut  them  off.  I  could  make  no  end  of  money  that  way, 
and  you  know  it.  That's  what  Searls  Jackson  did  one  year,"  he 
added,  playing  his  strongest  card. 

She  chose  not  to  mention  the  prophecy — he  would  have  ridi- 
culed it — but  listened  to  him  patiently  as  he  went  on  elaborating 
his  plans.  That  was  the  way  he  had  talked  about  the  creamery, 
and  she  had  backed  him ;  he  had  discoursed  the  same  way  about 
poultry  and  she  had  agreed;  he  had  argued  that  he  would  make 


54  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

the  farm  a  gold  mine  if  they  had  improved  machinery,  with  the 
result  that  they  had  purchased  several  different  machines,  mow- 
ing machines,  rakes,  tedders,  sulky  plows,  potato  diggers,  har- 
rows and  farm  wagons  and  manure  spreaders;  things  which  had 
taken  her  five  years  to  finish  paying  for.  Bob  had  delighted  in 
using  them  on  other  people's  farms  at  four  dollars  a  day  for 
awhile;  then  when  the  novelty  had  worn  off,  he  had  suddenly 
darted  away  to  the  city,  leaving  their  own  work  half  done,  and 
Joe  Green  to  take  his  place  on  the  home  farm. 

The  girl  thought  of  all  these  things,  but  she  did  not  mention 
them.  She  never  nagged.  Instead,  when  Bob  had  finished  his 
roseate  plans,  she  asked  quietly  what  security  she  had  that  he 
would  stick  to  the  sawmill  for  even  three  months." 

He  would  stick  to  anything  where  he  was  making  money,  he 
told  her  gruffly. 

He  was  in  for  the  surprise  of  his  life  when  she  absolutely 
refused  to  consider  the  subject  at  all.  For  the  nonce  he  did  not 
believe  his  own  ears:  that  Nell,  his  sister  Nell,  should  refuse 'to 
abide  by  his  judgment  and  announce  her  firm  determination  to 
:arry  on  the  farm  her  own  way,  staggered  him.  He  made  a  few 
attempts  to  convince  her  that  she,  being  a  woman,  had  no  busi- 
ness sense  whatever,  and  that  he,  being  a  man,  was  about  the  last 
word  on  all  subjects.  But  as  she  was  so  idiotically  and  stupidly 
persistent  in  adhering  to  her  own  opinions  in  spite  of  his  con- 
vincing arguments,  he  gave  up  logic,  and  swaggered  and  blus- 
tered in  anger,  until,  pausing  for  lack  of  breath,  he  realized  that 
he  was  alone  in  the  kitchen. 

"Nell,"  he  called  weakly,  "where  are  you?" 

"In  the  front  room,"  she  replied  steadily.  "When  you  will  act 
like  a  gentleman  I  will  come  back  and  talk ;  not  till  then." 

She  smiled  to  herself  in  the  darkness  as  she  heard  his  mut- 
terings  and  quick  breathing.  She  knew  that  he  was  trying  to 
control  himself.  He  acted  as  he  had  always  done  from  childhood 
up  whenever  he  was  crossed.  After  all,  he  was  the  brother  for 
whom  she  was  always  to  care.  She  knew  that  her  mother's  firm 
hand  had  always  held  him  in  check,  and  perhaps,  were  she  equally 
firm,  but  kind,  he  would  mend  his  ways.  She  went  back  to  the 


BOB.  55 

kitchen,  closed  the  east  door  against  the  moonlight  and  lit  the 
lamp.  Bob  looked  at  her  a  trifle  wistfully.  "You  are  a  good 
girl,  Nell,"  he  said,  "and  I  am  not  half  bad.  I  wish  you  would 
patch  this  thing  up  with  the  Lady  Lucille  for  me.  I  just  can't 
stand  her  dignity.  It  gives  a  fellow  the  jimjams." 

"Words  do  not  count  for  very  much  with  Lucille,  Bob.  Deeds 
count  for  a  great  deal.  Best  never  refer  to  the  subject,  and 
never  let  her  see  you  excited  in  such  a  way  again.  You  will  win 
her  favor  if  you  will  pay  for  her  music  for  a  year.  A  few  more 
terms  and  she  will  excel  any  girl  in  West  Winthrop." 

Bob  pulled  his  pocketbook  out  eagerly  and  emptied  the  con- 
tents on  the  table.  "That's  every  cent  I  have,  Nell,  and  just  to 
prove  to  you  that  I  am  not  all  hog,  I'll  do  what  I  can.  Here  is 
enough  for  Lucille's  music,"  he  passed  her  the  money — "here 
is  a  ten  spot  for  Madaline  to  keep  her  with  books  and  etceteras 
at  the  High.  It  will  go  for  awhile,  and  here  is  a  half  for  each 
of  the  boys;  and  here  is  another  tenner  for  you.  There,  that 
leaves  me  pretty  near  broke,  but  there  is  plenty  more  where  that 
came  from.  How  is  that  for  being  a  good  brother,  eh  ?" 

Nell's  astonishment  was  not  greater  than  her  pleasure.  "You 
never  had  so  much  money  at  a  time  before,  Bob,  as  this.  How 
did  you  happen  to  strike  so  much  wealth  ?" 

Her  eyes  were  directly  upon  him.  With  all  his  failings  he 
was  truthful  when  pressed  on  a  subject,  though  he  never  volun- 
tarily told  of  things  when  he  knew  that  Nell  would  disapprove. 

"Well !"  she  interrogated,  sharply. 

"We  had  a  stiff  game  last  night,  and  I  was  lucky  enough  to 
win,"  he  said.  "Don't  look  as  if  I  had  broken  the  Ten  Com- 
mandments. I  am  not  a  gambler,  and  have  never  played  for 
money  a  half  dozen  times  in  my  life.  But  I  did  last  night,  and 
as  usual  was  lucky.  That's  all  there  is  about  it.  You  are  not 
going  to  make  a  fool  of  yourself  and  refuse  to  take  the  money, 
are  you,  just  because  I  won  it  in  a  fair  play,  from  a  lot  of  fel- 
lows who  if  they  had  kept  it  would  have  spent  it  before  now  on 
whisky  and  women?  If  you  do,  you  will  be  the  first  fool  by  the 
name  of  Beverly." 

Nell's  New  England  conscience  was  urging  her  to  spurn  the 


56  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

money  and  starve  rather  than  take  it.  On  the  other  hand  her 
common  sense  told  her  that  if  she  did  such  a  thing  she  would 
certainly  lose  all  influence  over  Bob,  and  probably  drive  him 
directly  to  the  devil;  besides,  the  money  was  needed  so  dread- 
fully. "I  shall  not  refuse  it,"  she  replied  briefly.  "It  will  do 
good  here,  but  I  wish  you  had  won  it  by  work,  honest  work. 
You  may  give  the  children  theirs  yourself." 

"It  was  won  by  working  my  brains.  It  takes  brains  to  defeat 
card  sharps,  and  that  is  what  I  did,"  he  chuckled,  "but  on  the 
level,  Nell,  I  do  not  care  much  for  play.  I  haven't  got  the 
gambler's  itch  added  to  my  other  sins." 

Nell  sighed.  "You  are  all  right  in  streaks,  Bob ;  the  good  and 
bad  is  pretty  well  mixed  in  you.  You  are  like  father;  that  side 
of  trie  Beverlys  had  the  wanderlust  in  their  veins.  You  will  be 
like  him,  always  wandering  until  you  marry.  A  woman  will  be 
the  making  of  you.  I  have  told  you  so  ever  since  you  came  of 
age." 

He  laughed.  "Women  and  girls  do  not  interest  me.  I  have 
never  spent  a  dollar  on  any  girl  yet  but  my  own  sisters.  You 
can't  lay  that  to  my  door,  Nell.  I  have  no  use  for  the  girls  what- 
ever; they  are  a  lot  of  silly  nothings,  just  hanging  after  the  men 
for  their  money.  When  I  see  a  girl  that  isn't  a  grafter,  first,  last 
and  always,  then  I'll  ask  for  an  introduction.  Girls!"  he  ejacu- 
lated scornfully.  "Not  for  yours  truly." 

"That  is  where  you  and  Lucille  agree.  She  has  no  use  for 
boys  any  more  than  you  have  for  girls.  I  do  not  think  we  need 
to  discuss  either  matrimony  or  farming  any  more  to-night,  Bob. 
The  clock  will  strike  ten  presently  and  that  is  bedtime  for  coun- 
try folks.  Besides  I  am  tired.  Digging  potatoes  and  picking 
apples  is  not  the  easiest  work  in  the  world  for  a  school  teacher." 

"I'll  attend  to  the  potatoes  to-morrow,  and  get  Green  to  help 
fix  up  the  work,"  said  Bob  complacently.  "You  were  a  fool  to  let 
him  have  the  cow." 

"Green  is  not  coming  here  to  work  again  unless  he  is  paid 
every  day,"  the  girl  returned  firmly.  "There  will  be  no  more  bills 
run,  Bob,  for  anything  whatsoever." 


BOB.  57 

"Well,  I've  got  no  money  left,  now,  but  he  could  wait  a  spell, 
just  as  he  always  has  done,  and — " 

"We  will  not  discuss  the  subject,  Bob.  If  you  will  pay  him 
cash  down  for  services  all  right ;  if  not  he  stays  away,  that's  all." 

He  growled  to  himself,  but  did  not  answer  at  once.  Nell 
quietly  brushed  her  long  gold-brown  hair  and  braided  it  prepara- 
tory for  bed.  The  deliberate  striking  of  the  old-fashioned  clock 
broke  the  stillness.  Bob  rose  from  the  rocking  chair  and  took 
his  lamp,  which  Nell  had  lit.  "You  have  made  ten  fools  of  your- 
self, Nell,  and  will  make  ten  more  before  the  year  is  out,  if  you 
persist  this  way ;  you  will  find  that  business  cannot  be  done  with- 
out credit.  Why,  a  man  never  gets  rich  till  he  runs  in  debt.  It's 
the  keystone  to  success,  credit  is,  for  credit  brings  capital." 

"We  are  bright  and  shining  lights  of  the  debt  system  which 
leads  to  riches.  Rockefeller  isn't  in  it  with  us,"  observed  the  girl 
ironically. 

"You  are  just  Gramp  right  over,"  he  returned  irritably.  "You 
run  your  head  against  a  stone  wall,  and  haven't  sense  enough  to 
get  away  from  it.  Well,  there  is  no  use  to  argue  with  you.  Rea- 
son was  never  in  a  woman  and  never  will  be.  You  have  fixed  it 
up  with  Gramp  in  such  a  way  that  I  don't  count  at  all.  Now  I 
am  not  going  to  offer  any  more  advice,  but  just  let  you  go  ahead 
and  run  the  blamed  old  farm  into  the  ground;  and  the  sooner 
you  do  it  the  better.  I  say,  what  do  you  put  your  sewing  machine 
in  my  bedroom  for?"  he  demanded  turning  back  at  his  door. 

Her  explanation  that  it  was  to  please  Lucille  mollified  him, 
though  he  considered  himself  as  being  decidedly  misused  by  Nell. 
She  would  take  his  money,  but  not  his  advice.  Well,  it  would  not 
be  long  before  she  would  come  to  him  for  counsel,  and  then  he 
lost  himself  in  a  maze  of  dreams,  where  money  was  coming  to 
him  in  veritable  showers,  and  where  he  was  playing  Prince  Boun- 
tiful to  his  unappreciative  family. 

He  was  in  good  humor  the  next  morning.  He  bestowed  his 
gifts  on  the  children  as  soon  as  they  were  awake,  and  Lucille's 
smiles  proved  that  she  had  forgiven  him.  The  breakfast  hardly 
suited  him;  there  was  no  meat,  and  nothing  but  coffee,  oatmeal, 
with  plenty  of  cream,  and  fried  potatoes.  Nell  made  no  apolo- 


58  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

gies,  and  he  made  no  comment.  After  the  meal  he  put  on  his 
overalls  and  went  to  the  potato  field.  He  worked  faithfully,  and 
came  up  at  noon  hungry  for  dinner.  The  table  was  ready  with 
a  big  bowl  of  steaming  vegetable  soup,  flanked  by  baked  beans 
and  a  dish  of  macaroni.  For  dessert  Nell  served  baked  sweet 
apples  and  cream. 

"Didn't  the  cart  come  this  way  yesterday  ?"  he  inquired  scowl- 
ing at  the  table  as  he  sat  down. 

"I  suppose  so,"  Nell  answered  indifferently.  "It  never  stops 
unless  we  hail  it." 

"We  don't  buy  any  meat  now,"  said  Carlos.  "We  can't  afford 
it,  Nell  says." 

"Then  how  can  she  expect  to  work  ?  A  man  must  have  hearty 
food  if  he  does  farm  work.  This  is  another  of  your  fool  ideas  of 
economy,  I  suppose." 

"It  certainly  is.  With  a  thirty-dollar  meat  bill  to  pay  I  am 
certainly  not  going  to  add  to  it,  and  as  I  have  no  money  to  buy 
meat  consequently  we  go  without,"  she  answered  serenely. 

"Who  cares  for  meat?"  said  Manning.  "This  vegetable  soup 
is  the  right  thing.  Lucille  fixes  things  up  boss  with  some  butter 
and  cream." 

"And  I  could  not  get  any  bones  for  Teddy,  only  as  I  make  him 
earn  them,"  piped  Carlos.  "I  took  Teddy  down  to  Green's  the 
other  day  when  the  cart  was  there,  and  I  asked  the  meat  man  if 
he  would  give  me  some  bones  if  Teddy  would  do  his  tricks.  I'll 
show  them  to  you  after  dinner,  Bob.  He  stood  on  his  head,  he 
walked  on  a  ladder,  he  danced  and  when  I  asked  him  which  he 
would  rather  do,  'die  or  go  in  debt,'  he  just  tumbled  right  down 
dead  with  his  paws  up  in  the  air.  And  you  ought  to  have  heard 
the  meat  man  laugh.  He  said  he  would  be  dollars  to  doughnuts 
ahead  if  that  was  his  policy." 

"You  will  have  to  wait  till  you  are  home  from  school  to-night 
before  you  show  off  Teddy,"  cautioned  Lucille.  "Besides,  Bob 
won't  be  through  with  his  dinner  as  early  as  you  boys  are." 

"And  what  do  you  suppose,  Nell,  Kenton  told  the  teacher  to- 
day?" continued  Carlos  eagerly.  "It  was  in  his  spelling  lesson 
and  he  missed  the  word  debt.  He  spelled  it  'd-e-t';  and  when 


BOB.  59 

she  asked  him  if  he  knew  what  debt  meant,  he  said  quick  as  any- 
thing, 'Yes,  Miss  Dallas,  it  means  "destruction."  Nell  says  that 
there  ought  not  to  be  any  "b"  in  "debt"  anyhow.' " 

"You  must  be  careful  how  you  quote  me  in  school,"  cautioned 
Nell.  "The  teacher  will  not  like  it,  and  after  this,  unless  she  asks 
you  your  authority  for  anything,  never  mention  me.  Will  you 
remember,  boys  ?  I  mean  each  one  of  you." 

"Yes'm;"  three  boyish  faces  bent  over  their  soup.  Kenton 
raised  his  to  remark  in  self -extenuation  that  all  the  other  scholars 
did. 

"They  may  if  their  parents  allow  them,  but  it  is  wrong  for 
them,  just  the  same.  Miss  Gordon  is  the  teacher  now,  and  they 
must  abide  by  her  ways  and  forget  mine." 

"Miss  Gordon,  didn't  Carlos  say  Miss  Dallas?"  queried 
Bob. 

"That's  the  Normal  way  of  addressing  teachers,"  explained 
Manning.  "She  told  us  all  yesterday  that  we  must  call  her  Miss 
Dallas.  It  is  'No,  Miss  Dallas,'  and  'Yes,  Miss  Dallas/  all  the  time. 
The  boys  say  they  will  have  lots  of  fun  with  her.  She  seems  to 
think  we  are  all  little  kids;  she  calls  the  girls  'honey'  and  the 
boys  'sonny.'  Shucks !"  he  added  disgustedly. 

"But  she  is  nice,  just  the  same,"  added  Kenton,  "and  pretty, 
too.  She  has  soft  little  hands  and  pretty  dresses.  Joe  Green's 
boy  says  that  Searls  Jackson  is  stuck  on  her  already." 

"Oh,  Jackson  will  look  out  for  number  one  every  time,"  agreed 
Bob.  "You  can't  make  me  believe  that  he  wanted  you  to  have  the 
school  again.  If  she  is  one  of  Judge  Gordon's  daughters  she 
will  have  the  tin  all  right,  and  her  boarding  there  will  help  the 
thing  along.  Besides,  it  is  about  time  Jackson  was  marrying. 
He  must  be  thirty." 

Nell  left  the  table  abruptly.  Bob  continued  his  conversation 
with  Grandpa,  who  was  as  sore  as  he  over  the  school  question. 
After  the  children  had  gone  to  school,  Lucille  followed  Nell  into 
the  pantry.  "Did  you  come  here  to  hide?"  she  asked  quizzically. 

"I  wish  Bob  and  Grandpa  would  not  talk  about  the  school 
business  all  the  time.  It  is  bad  enough  for  it  to  grind  me  inwardly 


60  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

as  it  does  without  having  to  hear  it  all  the  time,"  said  the  older 
girl  warmly. 

"But  they  agree  on  that  subject,  and  that  is  about  the  only 
thing  that  they  do  think  alike  about;  so  let  them  talk  and  shut 
your  ears,"  counseled  Lucille.  "I  do."  After  a  pause  she  added 
firmly,  "But  if  that  Dallas  Gordon  gets  Searls  Jackson  from 
you  the  way  she  has  got  your  school  I  shall  tell  her  what  I  think 
of  her." 

"I  never  have  had  Searls,  Miss  Hotspur;  and  he  is  free  to 
marry  her  or  you." 

"Me!"  Lucille  was  disgusted.  "Catch  me  ever  marrying. 
You  can't  fool  me,  Nell.  I  have  seen  you  and  I  have  seen  Searls. 
But  I  know  enough  to  keep  still." 

Bob  worked  well  on  the  farm  for  a  week.  He  surprised  him- 
self, his  family  and  the  neighbors  by  the  amount  of  work  he 
accomplished.  He  talked  of  staying  at  home  for  a  month,  but  by 
past  experience  Nell  knew  that  he  would  not  be  contented.  If 
he  could  have  had  his  own  way  he  would  have  been  pleasant 
when  'in  the  house,  but  as  Nell  steadfastly  persisted  in  her  own 
plans,  he  was  as  cranky  as  he  well  could  be  most  of  the  time. 
The  daily  living  displeased  him.  He  could  not  bear  plain  food ; 
he  was  something  of  an  epicure  in  his  tastes,  and  he  wanted  the 
best  the  market  afforded ;  then  he  was  determined  that  the  apples 
should  be  sold  for  cider;  they  were  not  marketable  for  anything 
else;  but  Nell  stubbornly  refused  to  do  so.  She  would  feed 
them  to  the  pigs  first,  she  said,  and  so  she  did,  with  Grandpa's 
approval. 

The  cider  question  was  a  rap  on  Bob  and  he  knew  it.  Nell's 
former  patience  and  apparent  ignorance  of  his  love  for  hard 
cider  were  gone.  In  its  place  she  was  uncompromising  on  the 
subject,  and  Bob  knew  that  he  had  met  his  Waterloo  on  that  farm, 
now  that  his  sister  had  so  determinedly  taken  the  reins  of  gov- 
ernment into  her  capable  hands.  Cross  looks,  outbursts  of  tem- 
per, or  sullen  mutterings  had  no  effect.  He  could  stay  or  leave, 
she  told  him.  She  preferred  him  to  stay,  if  he  would  peaceably ; 
if  not,  he  could  do  as  he  chose. 

The  man  in  him  told  him  that  his  place  was  there  to  help  her, 


BOB.  61 

or  rather  to  bear  all  the  burdens  himself,  but  the  wanderlust  in 
his  veins  was  the  strongest  force  in  his  nature.  It  called  him 
daily  and  hourly,  and  the  second  week  he  told  her  he  was  going 
to  the  Maine  woods  for  the  Winter ;  he  knew  he  could  get  a  posi- 
tion as  sealer  or  walking  boss,  and  he  would  send  her  all  the 
money  she  needed.  She  did  not  try  to  oppose  him;  instead  she 
carefully  prepared  his  clothing,  and  pretended  she  believed  all  his 
promises.  The  children  were  really  glad  he  was  going;  his  tem- 
per was  too  uncertain  for  them  to  enjoy  his  society  long,  and  it 
was  always  pleasanter  with  just  Nell  and  Gramp. 

The  night  before  he  went  while  they  were  sitting  long  at  the 
supper  table,  Manning's  voice  floated  in  at  the  window: 

"Say,  you  folks,  want  to  hear  the  new  piece  I've  just  thought 
up?    It's  called  the  'Kids  of  Beverly/  " 

"Go  ahead,"  called  Bob,  and  the  family  settled  themselves  to 
listen. 

"Who's  turned  farmer  the  debts  to  quell? 
It  is  Nell;  it  is  Nell," 
he  sang  solemnly. 

His  audience  applauded,  and  he  sang  again : 

"Who'll  study  Greek  till  he  gets  a  cramp?" 

"It  is  Gramp ;  it  is  Gramp,"  chorused  all  the  boys,  laughing 
with  Grandpa. 

The  childish  treble  continued: 

"Who  is  it  hates  to  work  like  sin?" 

"It's   Madaline;   it's   Madaline,"   sang  the   tormenting  small 
boys,  while  the  girl  flushed  with  anger. 

"Manning  is  too  mean  for  anything,"  she  stormed. 

"If  the  shoe  does  not  fit  you  don't  need  to  wear  it,"  said  Bob 
loftily. 

The  boy  sang  on : 

"Who  likes  to  train  the  dog  and  the  hoss?" 

"It  is  Carlos ;  it  is  Carlos,"  chanted  the  whole  family. 
"Who  on  the  piano  likes  to  pound  and  squeal?" 

"It  is  Lucille ;  it  is  Lucille,"  howled  the  delighted  youngsters. 

"I  don't  squeal,"  flashed  Lucille.    "Just  let  me  get  my  hands 
on  that  boy." 


62  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

"Be  still,"  laughed  Nell.    "Can't  you  take. a  joke?" 

"Whose  poor  temper  gets  an  awful  rent?" 
"It  is  Kenton ;  it  is  Kent." 

"He  told  me  he  was  going  to  say  something  nice  about  me," 
the  boy's  wail  sounded  above  the  laughter. 

"The  shoe  fits,"  observed  Bob.    "Go  it  again,  kid." 

"Who  likes  hard  cider,  and  bums  his  job?" 
"It  is  Bob;    it  is  Bob," 

daringly  sang  Manning,  preparing  to  run  if  necessary. 

Bob  was  angry,  but  he  did  not  show  it.  Instead  he  forced  a 
laugh  as  Lucille  said  something  about  a  shoe  fitting.  Then  he 
joined  in  the  shout  against  Manning,  as  Grandpa  chanted  his  addi- 
tion to  the  "Beverly  Kids." 

"Who  is  it  needs  a  first  class  tanning?" 

"It  is  Manning;  it  is  Manning,"  chorused  the  delighted  vic- 
tims of  the  boy's  rhymes  as  they  hurried  out  through  the  various 
doors  to  catch  the  culprit,  whom  they  found  grinning  at  them 
from  his  perch  in  the  big  ash  tree  across  the  road. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

NELL  BEGINS  FARMING  IN  EARNEST. 

After  Bob  left  Nell  settled  down  to  the  Fall  work,  leaving 
Lucille  to  run  the  inside  of  the  house.  She  pressed  the  boys  into 
service  out  of  school  hours,  while  Grandpa  worked  at  the  wood- 
pile. By  the  time  Winter  really  set  in,  the  crops  were  all  gath- 
ered, the  corn  husked  and  the  buckwheat  had  been  thrashed 
with  the  flail,  Grandpa  having  done  that  as  he  always  had  done. 
A  fair  amount  of  wood  had  been  hauled  up  to  be  cut  whenever 
he  could  manage  to  do  so,  and  the  woodshed  was  partly  filled 
with  split  green  wood.  She  had  interested  the  boys  in  gathering 
the  nuts,  and  they  had  sold  a  few  dollars'  worth  toward  their 
Winter  clothing;  so  taking  everything  into  consideration,  she 
felt  satisfied  with  her  first  attempts  at  farming.  There  had 
been  no  crops  raised  that  they  could  sell;  there  were  barely 
potatoes  and  other  vegetables  enough  for  their  own  use,  but 
she  counted  on  the  fat  hog  after  New  Years  for  the  family  use. 

Bob's  letters  were  infrequent ;  he  had  stayed  in  Maine  but 
a  short  time,  had  struck  something  better  in  Quebec,  and  his 
letters  were  glowing  of  the  good  times  he  was  having.  He 
sent  Nell  ten  dollars  to  help  pay  on  the  fifty-dollar  note,  and 
by  scrimping  and  planning  she  raised  the  balance.  Bob  wrote 
that  at  last  he  was  saving  money — he  was  buying  mining  stock, 
which  would  yet  make  them  millionaires.  Nell  threw  the  letter 
in  the  stove.  Did  he  not  know  that  it  was  only  by  the  closest 
economy  she  could  provide  for  the  family?  she  asked  herself 
bitterly.  One-tenth  of  the  money  he  wasted  would  keep  them 
in  comfortable  food. 

There  were  no  new  clothes  for  herself  that  year;  the  girls 
could  not  be  shabbier  than  their  companions,  so  she  dressed 
them  and  stayed  at  home  herself,  under  plea  of  work  to  do. 
The  girls  rebelled  at  her  self-sacrifice,  but  she  was  firm,  and 


64  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

they  could  not  help  themselves.  She  treated  the  subject  as  a 
joke,  saying  that  she  liked  to  be  alone  when  she  had  a  chance; 
but  her  real  reason,  not  confessed  even  to  herself,  was  her 
desire  not  to  meet  Miss  Gordon,  who  was  escorted  to  all  the 
merrymakings  by  Searls  Jackson. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  term  he  had  invited  Nell  to  several 
outings,  but  she  had  declined.  The  gossip  concerning  him  and 
the  pretty  teacher  had  left  its  sting,  and  she  was  happier  not  to 
see  them  together,  and  he,  piqued  by  her  refusal,  had  tried  to 
make  her  jealous.  Miss  Gordon  was  nothing  to  him,  and  he 
nothing  to  her.  She  accepted  his  attentions  because  there  was 
no  one  else;  but  she  was  as  innocent  of  flirting  as  Nell.  She 
was  anxious  to  meet  the  teacher  she  had  displaced,  and  was  hurt 
because  Nell  avoided  her.  Her  work  was  very  far  from  easy. 
The  town  was  strong  against  Normal  teachers,  and  everything 
she  did  they  criticised  unfavorably.  She  regarded  the  Beverly 
boys  as  her  only  scholars  who  respected  her  methods.  They 
made  her  no  trouble,  and  Searls  Jackson  informed  her  that  they 
dared  not  do  otherwise  for  fear  of  Nell.  Terribly  afraid  of 
making  a  failure  of  teaching,  and  utterly  unused  to  district 
schools,  the  girl  worked  with  an  ardor  which  would  have  won 
Nell's  friendship  if  she  had  known  it.  She  tried  to  win  Lucille's 
friendship,  but  that  young  lady,  resenting  her  apparent  conquest 
of  Searls  Jackson,  treated  her  with  dignified  coolness,  though 
Nell  urged  her  to  be  friendly.  It  was  no  use,  and  the  girl  con- 
tinued to  ignore  both  her  and  Jackson  completely. 

Bob  sent  a  few  little  things  as  Christmas  gifts,  and  wrote 
that  if  Nell  would  agree  to  the  portable  sawmill  plan  he  would 
come  home.  Nell's  reply  angered  him  and  he  wrote  back  a  curt 
letter  to  the  effect  that  if  she  was  so  blamed  independent  she 
could  go  without  his  assistance  as  well  as  his  advice,  both  now 
and  in  the  future.  If  he  expected  her  to  beg  his  pardon  and 
cringe  for  favor  he  was  disillusioned  promptly,  for  her  answer- 
ing letter  bore  no  reference  whatever  to  the  subject. 

With  the  beginning  of  the  New  Year  came  trouble.  For 
some  time  Nell  had  suspected  that  her  cows  were  not  as  they 


NELL    BEGINS    FARMING    IN    EARNEST.  65 

should  be ;  and  when  the  State  Veterinarian  inspected  the  herd  she 
was  not  surprised  that  he  condemned  three.  That  stopped  the 
small  cream  check,  and  left  them  entirely  without  milk  until 
the  young  heifer  should  be  fresh  in  May.  She  was  almost  in 
despair  over  this  misfortune,  and  after  consulting  with  Grandpa 
she  sold  the  fat  hog  to  the  market  in  order  to  get  money  to 
supply  the  groceries  and  buy  a  quart  of  milk  daily  from  the 
nearest  neighbor.  Unknown  to  Nell,  Lucille  wrote  to  Bob, 
asking  him  to  send  some  money,  but  her  letter  crossed  his  to 
them;  in  which  he  asked  Nell  to  send  him  ten  dollars.  He  had 
invested  so  much — had  been  robbed  besides — and  was  greatly 
in  need  of  the  money.  He  would  pay  it  back  threefold  in  a 
very  short  time.  Nell  did  not  answer  it,  but  Lucille  did,  and 
her  brief  letter  made  him  ashamed  of  himself,  though  he  did 
not  send  any  money  home.  He  needed  it  himself  for  traveling. 

The  Winter,  which  seemed  interminable  in  prospect,  wore 
away  rapidly,  and  Nell  rejoiced  hourly  with  the  coming  of  the 
Spring.  She  had  carefully  planned  her  season's  work,  and  she 
longed  for  the  chance  to  begin.  After  a  number  of  days  of  raw 
winds  and  sleety  rains,  the  weather  changed  as  if  by  magic, 
and  almost  hourly  one  could  see  the  swelling  of  the  buds  and 
the  coming  greenness  of  the  fields.  The  very  air  pulsated  with 
hope,  and  the  bluebirds  and  robins  caroled  joyously  in  the 
rapidly  leafing  trees.  The  Springtime  was  there  indeed,  and 
the  farm  began  to  grow  green  and  beautiful  in  the  soft  sunshine. 
Nell  stood  in  the  wide  east  door  and  gazed  lovingly  over  the 
fields,  stretching  over  comparatively  level  ground  to  the  wooded 
knolls,  crowned  with  the  great  trees  which  lifted  their  strong 
arms  toward  Heaven;  the  old,  old  trees  so  dear  to  the  heart, 
trees  which  had  been  standing  since  the  Indians  built  their 
campfires  beneath  them,  and  whose  shade  offered  rest  and  com- 
fort to  the  weary  squaws  that  toiled  to  raise  their  corn  on  the 
very  fields  where  her  ancestors  had  later  earned  their  bread. 

She  stepped  out  on  the  wide  earth  wharfing  into  the  yard, 
and  gazed  up  at  the  bare  white  end  of  the  house,  which  seemed 
to  stare  like  a  sentinel  from  the  garret  window  in  its  high 


66  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER, 

corniced  peak  across  the  fields  to  the  little  river  at  the  foot  of 
the  ilats.  Close  by,  in  the  strong  white  Spring  sunshine,  it 
looked  cold  and  forbidding.  From  the  flats,  with  the  back- 
ground of  green  trees  around  it,  the  house  looked  restful  and 
inviting,  a  symbol  of  peace  and  prosperity.  She  thought  of  this 
as  she  glanced  at  the  letter  which  had  come  from  Bob  in  the 
morning's  mail.  She  had  thrust  it  in  her  apron  pocket  after 
she  had  read  it.  She  did  not  want  Lucille  to  see  it;  it  breathed 
such  contempt  of  the  farm  and  such  a  spirit  of  indifference  to 
the  needs  of  the  family.  "If  you  won't  get  Gramp  to  sell  the 
old  place,  then  have  him  mortgage  it  so  as  to  get  a  fine  span  of 
horses,  regular  thoroughbreds  that  would  do  farm  work  and 
still  make  a  fine  appearance  on  the  road."  With  such  a  team  to 
work  with,  he  would  come  home  and  put  the  old  farm  through 
its  paces ;  he  would  not  work  with  the  old  plugs  Nell  and  Gramp 
persisted  in  keeping.  But  if  they  would  neither  sell  nor  mort- 
gage, why  the  place  could  go  to  the  dogs  for  all  him.  He  ended 
by  sending  word  to  each  of  the  family  that  he  loved  them 
devotedly.  He  was  in  Denver  then,  working  as  timekeeper  on 
important  public  works.  He  had  invested  in  mines,  and  was 
sure  of  magnificent  returns  very  soon. 

Nell  tore  the  letter  into  little  bits  and  thrust  it  into  the  wall. 
Let  the  old  farm  go  to  the  dogs?  No,  never.  Not  while  she 
possessed  two  strong  hands  with  which  to  work.  Visions  of 
deserted  New  England  homes  rose  before  her  eyes;  they  were 
far  too  common  throughout  the  country.  The  four  windows, 
set  in  the  stern  white  face  of  the  east  end  of  the  old  house, 
gazed  at  her  solemnly.  She  fancied  that  they  were  mutely  pro- 
testing against  being  deserted,  and  as  she  passed  through  the 
barnyard  bars  she  repeated  aloud  a  few  lines  which  seemed 
appropriate  to  her  mood : 

"The  paths  unheeded  drift  and  gray, 

Old  Winter's  sifted  snow; 
And  weeds  of  Summer  nod  and  sway, 

Unheeded  where  they  go. 


NELL    BEGINS    FARMING    IN    EARNEST.  67 

Decay  hath  made  its  ravage  felt, 

The  want  of  care  is  shown; 
By  sagging  beam  where  man  once  dwelt, 

By  fence  and  shed  o'erthrown. 

And  where  the  farmer  walked  the  fields, 

While  Summers  came  and  went ; 
Amid  the  golden  harvest  fields 

In  peaceful  calm  content. 

Broad  hillsides,  slope  and  level  ground 

Lie  flecked  with  bush  and  brier; 
And  fox  and  rabbit  here  have  found 

A  home  for  their  desire. 

A  home  where  plenty  crowned  the  toil, 

Of  hands  of  other  days ; 
Where  sturdy  labor  tilled  the  soil, 

Where  flocks  were  wont  to  graze. 

Before  the  eye  how  drear  and  strange. 

The  scene  that  time  had  laid; 
How  desolate  and  sad  a  change, 

The  fleeting  years  have  made." 

She  shuddered  as  she  repeated  the  last  lines;  just  such  a 
change  would  come  to  old  Beverly  if  Bob  could  have  his  way; 
but  his  way  was  not  hers.  So  she  resolutely  opened  the  stable 
door,  harnessed  and  lead  out  the  span  of  old  farm  horses  that 
had  been  on  the  place  for  twenty  years,  but  were  still  sturdy  and 
strong  and  capable  of  carrying  on  the  farm  work;  they  were 
the  "plugs"  which  Bob  condemned,  but  they  were  as  much  part 
of  the  farm  as  were  the  trees,  and  were  going  to  stay.  She 
told  them  so,  as  she  harnessed  them,  and  they  neighed  con- 
tentedly. 

She  glanced  back  at  the  house  as  she  drove  out  in  the  lane. 


«8  NELL    BEVERLY,    FARMER. 

She  hoped  Lucille  would  not  come  back  from  the  neighbor's 
just  yet;  she  would  make  a  fuss.  The  other  children  were  at 
school,  and  Grandpa  would  not  only  ridicule  her,  but  would 
call  her  all  kinds  of  simpletons,  and  say  that  she  did  not  know 
enough  to  plow;  that  she  might  as  well  turn  old  Dinah  and  her 
pigs  out  in  the  lot,  they  would  do  a  better  job  than  she  would  be 
able  to  do.  Yet  still  she  was  confident  that  she  could  plow  if 
she  only  tried,  for  she  had  driven  the  horses  many  times  for 
both  Grandpa  and  Bob  many  years  ago.  Her  courage  did  not 
fail,  though  the  heavy  weight  of  the  harnesses  almost  staggered 
her.  She  hitched  the  team  to  the  stone  boat,  on  which  she 
had  already  placed  the  plow,  and  drove  down  the  lane  to  the 
level  field  where  Joe  Green  had  planted  corn  the  year  before. 
The  soddy  rows  and  blackened  weeds  showed  plainly  the  shift- 
less way  in  which  it  had  been  cultivated,  for  Bob  gave  it  but 
scant  attention  the  weeks  he  had  been  home.  She  spent  the  first 
fifteen  minutes  studying  to  see  which  way  she  should  strike  out 
her  land,  though  in  the  years  when  she  had  been  "Grandpa's 
boy"  she  had  often  seen  him  strike  out  the  new  land  to  plow. 
Finally  she  decided  to  plow  through  the  center,  then  back  and 
forth;  she  could  remember  how  to  do  that  at  any  rate. 

Although  very  confident  of  her  own  ability,  as  she  always 
was,  somehow  she  could  not  turn  the  furrows  straight,  and  the 
horses  wabbled  dreadfully  as  they  slowly  plodded  across  the 
field.  She  was  thankful  that  they  were  old  "plugs."  Were  they 
the  nervy  team  that  Bob  desired  she  would  not  dare  to  drive 
them  at  all.  She  fancied  she  could  see  a  disgusted  look  in  Dan's 
eye,  and  an  answering  one  in  Dora's  kind  face.  They  knew  she 
was  green,  and  she  knew  it,  too ;  and  by  the  time  she  had  turned 
a  half  dozen  furrows  her  arms  ached  dreadfully,  and  as  she 
glanced  back  over  her  zigzag  furrows  she  felt  fearfully  discour- 
aged and  felt  ready  to  give  up  her  job ;  only  there  was  no  money 
with  which  to  hire  help. 

As  she  rested  she  thought  of  the  many  times  when  she  was 
teaching  of  how  she  had  dreamed  of  the  freedom  of  an  outdoor 
life;  the  freedom  was  hers  now,  but  it  brought  such  weariness 


NELL    BEGINS    FARMING    IN    EARNEST.  69 

of  muscle  and  aching  bones  that  felt  ready  to  drop  on  the 
steaming-  earth.  But  she  kept  on  and  on  and  on,  until  when  it 
was  time  to  put  the  horses  up  for  noon  she  was  repaid  by  find- 
ing that  her  furrows  were  really  going  straighter,  and  the  plow 
did  not  wabble  as  much  as  it  had  done. 

She  waited  for  Lucille  to  speak  of  it,  but  the  dignified  girl 
had  an  extra  share  of  dignity  on  that  noon,  and  was  further- 
more so  disgusted  with  her  sister's  doing  such  work  that  she 
inwardly  resolved  not  to  speak  of  it  at  all.  But  finally  her 
impatience  got  the  better  of  her  reserve,  and  she  burst  forth : 

"Helena  Ursula  Beverly,  what  did  you  ever  do  such  a  thing 
for  ?  Don't  you  know  you  will  die  of  fatigue,  besides  being 
the  talk  of  the  town?" 

"Don't  you  worry,  little  girl,  until  I  am  sick.  Look  at  this 
arm" — rolling  back  her  sleeve  to  show  her  firm,  white,  well- 
developed  arm.  "I  have  not  cultivated  muscle  during  ten  years 
of  boy-shaking  for  nothing.  "Why,  the  horses  pull  the  plow; 
all  I  have  to  do  is  to  guide  it,  and  that  is  not  much  worse  than 
bicycle  riding;  the  sulky  plow  is  out  of  repair  or  I  would  have 
risked  my  neck  on  that." 

"I  shall  write  this  very  day  to  Bob,  and  tell  him  that  if  he 
does  not  come  back  and  do  this  work  himself,  or  else  send  the 
•money  to  hire  it  done,  that  he  ought  to  be  tarred  and  feathered. 
You  are  so  set  in  your  own  way  that  you  will  do  it  now  if  it 
kills  you,  no  matter  what  becomes  of  the  rest  of  us.  But  why 
don't  you  hire  Joe  Green?  His  wife  asked  me  to-day,  when  I 
went  after  the  pattern  she  had  borrowed  in  the  Winter,  when 
you  was  going  to  want  Joe.  She  said  that  he  had  no  work  prom- 
ised just  now,  and  she  would  take  some  of  the  pigs  in  payment 
by  and  by." 

Nell  answered  the  last  part  of  Lucille's  remarks  first:  "I 
do  not  want  Joe  Green  at  all.  I  told  him  so,  but  that  talk  is 
all  the  old  woman's  idea.  She  wants  some  of  these  nice  Chester 
Whites,  but  they  are  not  going  to  pay  for  any  new  bills.  You 
girls  need  new  clothes,  and  so  do  the  boys;  the  taxes  have  not 
yet  been  paid;  seed  has  to  be  bought,  and  we  must  live  and  the 


70  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

horses  have  grain.  And  until  we  get  some  wool  and  lamb 
money  I  shall  have  to  depend  upon  the  sale  of  the  pigs.  That 
ends  that  part  of  the  subject.  In  regard  to  Bob,  you  are  not 
going  to  write  him  one  word  as  if  he  was  needed.  He  knows 
that  he  and  his  money  are  needed  right  here;  but  if  his  own 
conscience  does  not  prompt  him  to  help  nothing  else  will.  I  do 
not  want  him  to  come  home  until  he  has  seen  enough  of  the 
world  to  convince  him  that  the  fields  far  away  are  no  greener 
than  these  are  here ;  and  until  he  is  glad  to  ask  for  his  old  place 
back  again.  You  understand  me,  Lucille." 

The  girl  nodded.  Nell's  tone  of  finality  ended  her  plan  com- 
pletely. "There  will  be  strawberries  by  and  by,"  she  remarked 
presently.  "Mrs.  Green  and  Joe  would  take  part  of  his  pay  in 
them."  * 

"At  a  cent  a  quart,  I  suppose.  No,  Lucille.  I  understand 
Mrs.  Green's  desire  to  have  Joe  work  here,  where  he  will  get  no 
cider,  but  I  can't  afford  to  hire  him,  and  that  ends  it.  We 
already  owe  the  butcher  and  baker  and  candlestick  maker,  and 
if  we  run  bills  this  year  we  will  have  to  sell  your  Bonny  Blanche 
to  help  pay  them.  The  pigs  will  keep  us  going  for  a  while,  but 
no  more.  A  good  man  to  work,  like  Joe,  costs  money, 
and  a  poor  worker  is  a  luxury  I  can't  afford.  Now  don't  cry, 
Lucille.  The  colt  shan't  be  sold  unless  we  are  afraid  she  will 
starve.  Pass  the  rye  dodgers  this  way;  you  excelled  yourself 
in  baking  them  this  time." 

"Madaline  says  that  her  lunches  are  so  plain  that  she  is 
ashamed  to  let  the  other  girls  at  the  High  see  her  eat  them," 
remarked  Manning.  "But  she  says  they  do  not  give  her  head- 
aches, so  she  does  not  care  if  they  are  not  fancy." 

"I  wish  we  could  take  our  dinner  to  school  so  as  to  play  with 
the  other  boys  noons,"  said  Kenton.  "The  teacher  comes  out 
and  plays  too.  I  think  it  is  a  shame  the  children  don't  like  her 
better;  I  think  she  is  fine." 

"  'Cause  she  laughs  at  all  you  say,"  said  Manning.  "You 
can't  guess,  Nell,  what  he  told  her  this  morning." 


NELL    BEGINS    FARMING    IN    EARNEST.  71 

"I  hope  he  did  not  bring  my  name  in  again,"  she  said 
quickly. 

"Well,  he  did  all  right.  There  was  something  in  the  reading 
lesson  about  inanimate  objects,  and  she  said  that  inanimate 
meant  things  that  did  not  have  life;  and,  of  course  could  not 
make  a  sound,  like  a  stone  or  a  penny,  and  then  Kenton  said 
that  a  penny  could  make  a  noise,  he  knew  it  could,  for  Grandpa 
said  that  Nell  squeezed  every  penny  till  it  hollered.  You  ought 
to  have  heard  Miss  Dallas  laugh  for  a  minute ;  then  she  sobered 
just  as  quick,  and  said  that  was  only  a  figure  of  speech.  What 
is  a  speech  figure,  Nell?" 

"It  is  no  use,"  said  Nell  to  Grandpa  after  the  boys  had  gone 
to  school,  "they  will  quote  me  or  you  on  every  possible  and 
impossible  occasion.  I  don't  see  but  that  we  shall  have  to  work 
out  our  own  salvation  on  the  place  by  squeezing  the  pennies 
harder  than  ever.  I  am  glad  that  you  are  trimming  up  the  apple 
trees.  I  think  that  we  can  make  the  orchard  bear  good  fruit." 

"I  have  about  finished  them,"  Grandpa  answered.  "If  I 
wasn't  so  lame  I'd  do  the  plowing ;  for  you  need  never  be  afraid  of 
the  devil  catching  you  in  those  crooked  furrows,"  he  added 
laughingly.  "Why,  he  couldn't  catch  you,  for  he  would  get 
dizzy  running.  What  are  you  going  to  plant  there,  potatoes? 
I  think  it  would  be  a  good  plan.  The  bugs  would  get  so  dis- 
heartened trying  to  eat  in  straight  lines  that  they  would  die  of 
despair;  that  would  save  bugging  them." 

"Oats  will  go  crooked  as  well  as  straight,"  she  returned 
lightly.  "You  needn't  laugh;  I  am  going  to  try  it  again  this 
afternoon,  and  keep  on  trying  it;  and  any  help  you  can  give 
me  I  shall  greatly  appreciate." 

"And  I  will  greatly  appreciate  some  wood,"  said  Lucille  as 
she  quickly  cleared  the  table.  "I  have  got  to  iron  this  afternoon ; 
and  as  usual  there  is  not  a  stick.  Oh,  dear;  as  shiftless  as  Joe 
Green  is,  yet  he  always  kept  up  his  woodpile." 

."His  old  woman  would  kill  him  if  he  didn't,"  remarked 
Grandpa,  rising  from  the  table.  "Poor  Joe;  I  don't  see  how 
he  stands  one  woman.  Here  I  have  two  to  boss  me  all  the  time, 


72  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

and  three  part  of  the  time,  and  it  keeps  me  between  the  devil 
and  the  deep  sea,"  he  groaned  in  mock  misery.  "Here  is  Lucille 
calling  for  wood,  wood,  and  yet  more  wood  all  the  time.  I 
shall  be  forced  to  marry  her  off  to  a  wood  dealer  to  save  myself 
from  an  untimely  death ;  and  Madaline  is  forever  stealing  my 
encyclopaedias  or  pestering  me  with  a  translation,  and  Nell  is 
so  independent  that  I  have  been  obliged  to  turn  my  framed 
picture  of  the  Signers  with  its  face  to  the  wall;  as  two  such 
Declarations  as  she  and  the  Independence  are  too  much  for  one 
house.  I  begin  to  think  that  Bob  shows  his  common  sense  by 
steering  clear  of  a  house  full  of  women." 

Nell  was  hard  at  work  in  the  field  again  when  Grandpa  came 
down  the  lane.  She  knew  that  he  was  not  disgusted,  but 
immensely  pleased  with  her  spirit  in  undertaking  such  work. 
His  gray  eyes  were  twinkling  and  his  beard  failed  to  conceal 
the  smile  he  tried  to  suppress.  "I  thought  I  heard  it  thunder," 
he  remarked  solemnly. 

Nell  glanced  at  the  clear  sky  involuntarily.  Grandpa  con- 
tinued dryly: 

"But  you  need  not  be  alarmed;  lightning  would  be  ashamed 
to  strike  in  such  a  crooked  place;  why,  it  would  meet  itself 
coming  back." 

Nell  pretended  not  to  hear.  At  that  moment  the  plow  came 
up  stiff  against  a  stone,  and  the  swaying  handles  sent  the  girl 
to  her  knees.  She  got  up  doggedly  and  brushed  off  the  dirt 
which  clung  to  her  dress. 

"Why  didn't  you  swear?"  said  Grandpa,  chuckling. 

She  looked  at  him  in  astonishment. 

"That  is  what  Carlos  asked  Joe  Green  last  year,  or  rather 
he  asked  him  why  he  swore,  and  he  said  he  could  not  plow 
straight  unless  he  did;  so  I  think  if  you  tried  it  you  might  get 
along  better." 

"Did  you  swear  when  you  plowed?"  she  demanded. 

"No,"  he  returned  gravely,  "I  always  had  to  save  my  breath 
to  pray  for  rains.  I  was  just  giving  you  Green's  recipe  for 
straight  furrows." 


NELL    BEGINS    FARMING    IN    EARNEST.  73 

"But  I  don't  believe  I  shall  follow  it  to  find  out  if  it  is 
correct/'  she  answered.  "The  Bible  says  that  the  plowing  of 
the  wicked  is  sin;  perhaps  that  is  the  reason  that  there  has 
been  more  wild  turnip  and  chickweed  in  our  fields  than  corn 
and  oats ;  perhaps  his  cursing  cursed  the  seed.  Anyway,  he 
always  kept  his  'orchard  tea'  handy,  so  as  to  drink  when  he 
rested,  and  he  rested  frequently." 

She  was  so  weary  that  night  when  she  drove  up  to  the  barn- 
yard  that  she   could  hardly  speak.     Grandpa  unharnessed   the 
horses,  and  leaving  Lucille  to  look  after  the  children  and  the 
evening's  work,  she  bathed  and  went  directly  to  bed  without 
eating  anything.     She  woke  the  next  morning  with  every  muscle 
feeling  as  sore  as  if  she  had  been  pounded,  but  as  she  was  able 
to  eat  breakfast  she  concluded  that  she  was  able  to  continue  the 
hardening  process,  so  she  began  her  plowing  again,  in  spite  of 
the  united  opposition  of  the  whole  family.     Grandpa  declared 
that  he  would  do  it  himself.     Lucille  predicted  Nell's  immediate 
death   and   the    consequent   disruption    of   the    Beverly   family. 
"She  would  drown  herself  just  as  soon  as  Nell  died ;  it  would 
kill     Grandpa,  and  that  would  be  the  death  of  three  of  them. 
Madaline  and  the  boys  would  have  to  be  sent  to  the  Children's 
Home  and  then  Bob  would  sell  the  place  and  spend  the  money 
traveling;  and  that  was  just  what  Nell  wanted,  or  she  would 
not  persist  in  committing  suicide  by  plowing."     Madaline  was 
furious.     She   was   everlastingly   disgraced   by   Nell's   conduct; 
she  hoped  that  she  would  never  let  anybody  see  her  doing  such 
an  awful  thing,  and  she  wondered  what  Searls  Jackson  would 
think  if  he  knew  it.     Manning  begged  Nell  to  let  him  do  the 
plowing  out  of  school  nights  and   Saturdays;  then  as  a  final 
appeal  the  five  children  pooled  all  their  money  and  brought  it  to 
their  determined  sister,  begging  her  to  hire  Joe  Green  with  it 
to   do   the   work.     Nell    almost   cried   over   their   self-sacrifice. 
Lucille  had  given  up  the  balance  of  her  music  money ;  Madaline 
had  put  in  the  dollar  she  had  left,  and  the  savings  of  the  three 
little  boys  amounted  to  a  dollar.     Carlos  had  earned  ten  cents 
from  the  teacher  by  putting  Teddy  through  his  tricks,  and  he 


74  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

said  that  he  was  going  to  take  the  dog  every  night  around  the 
neighborhood  and  see  if  he  could  not  earn  more.  Nell  returned 
the  pitiful  little  amount  gently.  Then  to  stop  the  grief  which 
was  choking  each  one  of  them  as  Lucille's  horrible  forecast 
seemed  to  be  in  imminent  danger  of  quick  fulfillment,  she  prom- 
ised them  that  if  she  was  sick  after  three  days  of  trying  to  plow 
she  would  give  it  up  for  good.  They  knew  she  would  keep  her 
word  and  were  satisfied. 

The  work  was  not  quite  as  hard  that  morning.  Grandpa  had 
showed  her  how  to  do  the  work  easier  for  herself,  and  the  horses 
understood  her  ways  better.  By  noon  she  was  surprised  at 
the  amount  of  plowing  she  had  accomplished;  she  had  nearly 
finished  the  piece,  and  was  proud  of  her  work,  for  each  furrow 
was  straighter  than  the  one  before.  Much  to  Lucille's  joy  it 
rained  that  afternoon,  so  she  was  obliged  to  rest.  The  next 
morning  the  soreness  in  her  muscles  was  a  little  less,  and  she 
finished  the  piece  easily  before  noon.  She  was  not  sick,  and  the 
children  were  obliged  to  let  her  continue  her  work  in  her  own 
way.  The  girls  rebelled  constantly;  Grandpa  laughed  at  her, 
but  Manning  upheld  her,  and  was  willing  to  put  aside  his  tinker- 
ing for  the  sake  of  working  with  her  in  the  fields. 

The  neighbors  gossiped,  as  she  knew  they  would.  Searls 
Jackson  did  not  hear  of  it  until  she  had  begun  on  her  second 
piece,  then  he  surprised  her  one  morning  by  appearing  in  the 
field.  She  saw  him  coming,  and  if  there  had  been  a  hiding 
place  handy  she  would  have  made  for  covert;  but  she  had  to 
stand  her  ground.  She  expected  a  scolding,  but  he  only  praised 
her  work. 

"The  neighbors  tell  me  that  you  are  making  a  success  plow- 
ing," he  said  pleasantly.  "I  came  over  to  see  if  I  could  not 
get  you  to  do  mine.  Labor  is  at  a  premium,  and  I  have  no  man 
this  year.  How  much  do  you  charge  a  day?"  he  asked  in  mock 
seriousness, 

"You  need  not  laugh,"  she  said.  "You  know  now  that  I 
cannot  teach  I  must  do  something;  besides,  it  is  good  for  me  to 
be  out  of  doors.  I  am  feeling  better  already. 


NELL    BEGINS    FARMING    IN    EARNEST.  75 

"I  want  to  grant  that  it  is  good  for  you,  but  the  work  isn't. 
Why,  Nell,  you  will  kill  yourself." 

"I  don't  kill  quite  as  easily  as  that.  I  know  when  I  am  tired 
and  I  know  when  to  stop  it.  Besides,  I  am  naturally  strong.  It 
is  not  half  as  wearing  as  teaching  is." 

"I  would  give  a  good  deal  if  you  were  back  in  your  own 
school,"  he  said  abruptly.  "It  will  take  fully  ten  years  before 
this  town  will  get  reconciled  to  Normal  teachers." 

"I  should  not  think  you  would  say  that,"  she  replied  quickly. 
She  was  ashamed  of  herself  at  once.  She  had  not  meant  to 
refer  in  any  way  to  the  gossip  concerning  him  and  Miss  Gordon. 

He  understood  her  reference.  "Dallas  Gordon  is  one  of  the 
best  girls  I  have  ever  known.  My  mother  cares  a  great  deal  for 
her.  But,  Nell,  no  matter  what  you  may  have  heard  or  what 
you  may  think,  I  am  nothing  to  her,  and  she  is  nothing  to  me 
but  a  friend.  You  ought  to  have  known,  years  ago,  how  I  felt, 
but  since  she  came  to  this  school  you  have  avoided  me  as  if  I 
was  poison.  I  don't  know  as  a  plowed  field  is  the  conventional 
place  for  a  proposal,  yet  nevertheless  I  ask  you  right  now  to  be 
my  wife ;  for  I  love  you  and  you  know  it." 

His  face  was  white  beneath  the  tan.  He  lifted  the  reins  from 
around  her  neck  and  tried  to  draw  her  into  his  arms,  but  she 
drew  back,  frightened  by  his  impetuosity.  The  horses  looked 
around  inquisitively.  They  seemed  to  feel  in  a  dumb  way  as  if 
a  crisis  had  come  into  the  life  of  their  young  mistress.  "Did 
you  come  here  to  tell  me  this?"  she  asked  presently. 

"Yes,"  he  returned.  "It  has  been  in  my  mind  for  years, 
but  I  knew  you  would  not  listen  while  the  children  were  small. 
But  now  you  must  listen.  You  must  give  me  the  right  to  care 
for  you  and  look  after  the  others.  Were  you  to  leave  the  family 
Bob  would  prove  himself  a  man ;  I  know  he  would.  What  is  it, 
Nell?"  he  pleaded.  "Is  it  yes?" 

The  girl  could  truly  say  it  was  sudden.  Years  before  it 
had  seemed  to  her  as  if  she  should  some  day  marry  him,  though 
he  had  never  spoken  to  her  of  love.  But  now,  with  all  the  bur- 
dens resting  upon  her  shoulders,  she  could  not  think  of  giving 


76  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

them  up.  For  an  hour  she  talked  there  in  the  field.  For  an 
hour  he  pleaded,  and  for  an  hour  she  stifled  the  love  which  for 
years  had  lain  in  her  heart,  to  be  quickened  that  morning  by 
his  words.  Her  duty  was  with  the  children  and  with  Grandpa. 
If  he  would  wait  till  the  children  were  older,  or  until  the  farm 
was  prospering,  all  right;  but  she  would  not  consent  to  an 
engagement.  They  loved  each  other,  and  that  was  all  that  was 
necessary.  He  had  his  duty  toward  his  mother.  The  girl 
knew,  as  well  as  he,  that  she  did  not  wish  him  to  marry  during 
her  lifetime,  and  for  his  mother's  sake  as  well  as  her  own  home 
ties,  there  should  be  no  engagement.  They  should  be  the  same 
friends  as  in  the  old  days  when  she  was  the  teacher  in  the 
school. 

With  that  he  had  to  be  content.  Although  there  were  press- 
ing duties  awaiting  him  on  his  own  farm,  he  forced  her  to  leave 
that  piece  for  him  to  finish,  and  during  the  bright  morning  hours, 
while  they  talked  of  the  wonderful  love  which  was  theirs,  she 
walked  beside  him  in  the  field  in  the  straight  deep  furrows  he 
plowed  so  easily. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

SAREPTA  BARRY. 

In  the  eyes  of  Searls  Jackson  the  world  was  glorified  that 
morning.  Since  his  callow  youth  Nell  Beverly  had  been  the  one 
girl  in  the  world  to  him,  and  until  the  dainty  Dallas  Gordon 
boarded  at  his  home  he  had  never  paid  any  girl  but  Nell  the 
slightest  attention.  Knowing  where  his  own  heart  lay,  he  had 
not  thought  that  the  gossips  would  seriously  connect  his  name 
with  the  teacher.  He  had  been  awakened  that  morning  to  the 
fact  by  the  gossip  of  Joe  Green,  who  with  the  news  of  Nell's 
plowing  on  his  ready  tongue  also  told  him  that  folks  were  won- 
dering whether  he  would  live  with  his  mother  or  build  a  new 
house  when  he  married  Miss  Gordon.  He  had  answered  by 
abruptly  leaving  the  man  to  answer  his  own  questions,  and  had 
started  for  Nell,  with  the  intention  of  marrying  at  an  early  date 
and  preventing  her  from  further  farming.  But  the  very  quality 
which  he  admired  most  in  the  girl  was  the  one  which  thwarted 
his  plans.  She  would  not  give  up  her  duties  and  her  work,  and 
no  logic  of  his  could  prevail  upon  her  to  change  her  mind.  Her 
very  decision  would  have  angered  most  men,  but  it  pleased 
Searls.  She  was  like  his  mother  in  that,  and  the  almost  masculine 
firmness  of  her  mind  was,  to  him,  her  most  attractive  quality. 
If  Dallas  Gordon  had  been  as  firm  and  resolute  she  might  have 
proved  a  rival;  as  it  was,  with  her  gentle,  yielding  ways,  she 
seemed  childish  and  immature,  and  had  she  been  the  only  girl 
in  the  world  he  could  never  have  loved  her. 

The  Jacksons  were  the  aristocrats  of  West  Winthrop.  Mrs. 
Jackson  was  a  New  York  woman,  a  fact  which  she  never  forgot. 
She  had  married  Mr.  Jackson  rather  late  in  life,  and  had  settled 
down  on  the  fine  old  farm,  in  the  old  Colonial  mansion  with  its 
wide,  heavily-pillared  porch,  with  a  contentment  which  surprised 
her  friends.  She  had  always  held  herself,  and  her  one  child, 
Searls  Woodrow,  named  after  her  father,  as  being  a  little  better 
than  the  rest  of  West  Winthrop.  Searls  had  been  educated  in 


78  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER, 

college,  but  his  taste  was  for  country  life,  so  at  his  father's  death 
he  had  returned  to  run  the  farm  as  a  country  gentleman  should. 
He  made  money  at  it,  and  was  successful  in  everything  he  under- 
took. He  was  first  selectman,  a  member  of  the  school  board, 
and  a  trustee  in  the  church,  which  he  and  his  mother  zealously 
attended  and  supported.  They  were  all  in  all  to  each  other,  and 
he,  knowing  of  the  organic  weakness  of  her  heart,  had  solemnly 
told  himself,  in  obedience  to  her  unexpressed,  but  secret  wish, 
that  he  would  never  marry  while  she  lived.  But  since  Dallas 
Gordon  had  come  to  them  she  had  more  than  once  hinted  that 
she  would  like  to  see  him  make  her  his  wife.  He  had  evaded  the 
subject  laughingly,  but  he  knew  how  she  felt.  She  had  always 
been  friendly  with  the  Beverlys.  Grandpa  Beverly  being  a 
scholar  won  her  favor.  Nell  she  liked  and  respected,  but  it  never 
occurred  to  her  to  think  that  Searls  would  wish  to  marry  her. 
No,  her  son  would  marry  an  aristocrat  like  his  mother  when  the 
time  was  right.  West  Winthrop  could  never  produce  a  girl  good 
enough  for  her  son.  Dallas  Gordon  was  the  only  one  she  had 
ever  met  who  would  at  all  answer;  and  it  worried  her  consider- 
ably because  the  girl  did  not  fall  in  love  with  him.  It  was  her 
only  fault. 

Nell  knew  intuitively  that  the  stately  white-haired  woman 
would  not  wish  her  son  to  marry  her.  She  also  knew  that  Mrs. 
Jackson's  term  of  years  was  sure  to  be  short,  and  under  no  cir- 
cumstances would  she  consent  to  an  engagement.  He  must  do 
his  duty  by  his  mother,  and  she  would  do  hers  by  her  own  peo- 
ple. The  time  would  come  right  if  they  were  patient,  she  told 
him.  For  the  present,  the  knowledge  of  his  love  was  all  that 
she  asked. 

Lucille  guessed  from  the  happiness  shining  in  Nell's  eyes  what 
had  happened.  It  was  too  sacred,  too  personal  a  subject  to  be 
discussed  with  anyone,  but  she  felt  obliged  to  tell  the  girl,  for  she 
knew  that  she  could  rely  on  her  faithful  promise  of  secrecy ;  and 
although  Lucille  had  never  been  able  to  see  the  least  thing  attrac- 
tive in  any  man  or  boy,  she  was  glad  for  Nell's  sake  that  it  was 
to  be  Searls  Jackson  and  not  some  one  else. 

But  in  spite  of  her  new-found  happiness  it  was  a  month  of 


SAREPTA    BARRY.  79 

the  very  hardest  toil  that  Nell  had  ever  known.  She  persisted 
in  it  every  day  the  weather  permitted,  though  the  girls  prophesied 
daily  that  she  would  fall  dead  in  her  tracks,  yet  she  disappointed 
them  by  keeping  on  living,  though  she  would  sink  into  bed  every 
night  at  dark,  too  weary  almost  to  breathe,  and  there  lie  in  dead 
slumber  till  daylight  crept  in  at  the  south  window  at  the  head  of 
her  bed.  Then  she  would  stagger  to  her  feet,  dress  with  every 
muscle  crying  for  more  rest,  and  drag  herself  downstairs  to  her 
daily  work. 

Grandpa  compared  her  to  a  spavined  horse  that  could  work 
after  he  got  warmed  up,  and  told  her  that  she  was  like  the  horse 
that  was  fed  on  shingle  nails;  as  soon  as  he  got  accustomed  to 
the  diet  and  could  begin  to  thrive  on  it,  he  died.  She  began  to 
think  that  she  would  be  dead  herself  before  the  hardening  process 
was  finished,  for  her  tortured  muscles  protested  daily  and  hourly 
against  such  hard  work;  but  the  necessity  she  was  under  spurred 
her  on  to  her  task,  and  finally  she  found  that  she  was  becoming 
less  and  less  weary.  The  feel  of  the  fresh  earth  'neath  her  feet, 
the  soft  winds  and  the  springing  life  around  her  invigorated  her, 
and  by  the  time  the  plowing  and  harrowing  was  done  she  had 
begun  really  to  like  her  work  in  the  open  air.  She  interested  the 
little  boys  in  the  work,  by  giving  them  each  a  row  of  potatoes 
to  care  for  and  have  the  sale  themselves.  She  planted,  with 
Grandpa's  help,  a  good  garden;  together  they  put  in  three  acres 
of  corn,  and  she  hoped  for  great  results  from  it  that  year.  She 
had  but  one  creditor  who  was  troubling.  The  grocer  who  had 
been  so  obliging  was  now  seriously  ill,  and  his  sister  had  taken 
the  business  into  her  own  hands  for  a  term  of  years;  her  first 
move  was  to  round  up  all  the  debtors  and  bring  them  to  terms. 

She  was  a  maiden  lady,  sharp  and  aggressive,  with  no  mercy 
for  anyone.  Her  manner  implied  that  she  believed  everyone 
dishonest  until  he  should"  prove  himself  innocent.  She  kept  the 
books,  and  perched  on  a  high  stool  near  the  door  she  kept  close 
watch  and  scrutiny  over  everyone  who  entered  and  over  every- 
thing that  was  done.  In  going  over  the  books  she  was  amazed 
and  horrified  to  find  the  Beverly  account  was  so  large  and  had 
stood  so  long.  Her  brother  had  been  sent  to  Colorado  for  his 


80  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

health,  and  she  knew  that  she  had  discovered  the  real  reason  of 
his  physical  breakdown.  It  was  the  mental  worry  caused  by  the 
culpable  dishonesty  of  the  wicked  Beverlys;  and  her  duty  was 
plain.  She  must  compel  them  to  pay  up  immediately.  They  had 
only  made  one  payment  in  a  year ;  the  price  of  the  heifer  credited 
on  the  bill  was  proof  positive  that  her  brother  had  made  a  des- 
perate effort  to  secure  a  settlement  through  taking  cattle  as  pay- 
ment. If  they  did  not  square  the  bill  immediately  she  would 
know  the  reason  why,  or  her  name  was  not  Sarepta  Barry. 

She  mailed  the  bill  to  Nell  with  a  note  requesting  immediate 
payment.  It  came  just  after  the  girl  had  paid  the  taxes,  which 
had  taken  every  cent  she  could  rake  together  above  the  actual 
expenses  of  the  family.  The  children  all  had  to  have  clothes,  and 
she  and  Grandpa  had  gone  without  things  they  actually  needed. 
She  had  less  than  five  dollars  to  use  until  the  lambs  could  be 
sold,  or  the  strawberries  ripen,  and  to  be  asked,  or  rather  ordered 
to  pay  a  bill  when  she  had  nothing  to  pay  it  with,  dazed  her  for 
the  time. 

"There  is  no  slavery  like  the  slavery  of  debt,"  she  said  to 
Lucille.  "Here  I  have  not  a  cent  I  can  spare  for  anything  above 
the  daily  necessities,  and  that  woman  is  hounding  me  this  way. 
Her  brother  would  never  have  done  it.  What  shall  I  do?" 

"Tell  her  you  can't  pay  it,  that's  all,"  suggested  the  girl 
naively.  "That  ought  to  settle  the  question." 

"But  it  won't,"  Nell  replied.  "She  is  after  my  scalp  fast 
enough.  I  will  send  her  a  note  when  you  go  there  again  to  trade." 

"I  never  want  to  enter  her  old  store  again,"  cried  the  girl 
quickly.  "She  makes  me  feel  so  uncomfortable;  the  last  time  I 
bought  those  packages  of  oatmeal  she  remarked  that  it  seemed 
to  her  we  must  live  on  oatmeal,  we  bought  so  much  of  it ;  as  if  it 
was  anything  to  her." 

"But  you  paid  cash  for  it,  so  she  ought  not  to  have  com- 
plained. If  there  was  any  other  store  in  West  Winthrop  I  would 
never  buy  another  thing  there.  I  believe  we  will  manage  to 
have  the  groceries  come  in  the  delivery  wagon  twice  a  week,  so 
you  need  not  go  there  again.  I  will  write  her  a  note  that  I  can't 


SAREPTA    BARRY.  81 

pay  anything  at  present,  though  I  don't  suppose  it  will  do  any 
good." 

Th  brief  note  regretting  that  she  was  at  present  absolutely 
unable  to  cancel  the  bill  angered  Miss  Barry.  It  was  all  non- 
sense; they  could  pay  if  they  wished,  and  she  would  see  about  it 
personally.  The  very  day  she  received  it  she  drove  there  directly. 
Lucille  saw  her  as  she  stopped  at  the  hitching  post  by  the  front 
gate.  Darting  out  of  the  east  door  the  frightened  girl  sped 
through  the  barnyard  and  down  the  lane  to  the  field  where  her 
sister  was  harrowing,  carrying  the  news  that  Miss  Barry  was 
after  her.  Nell  continued  her  work  serenely,  leaving  the  indig- 
nant lady  to  knock  vainly  at  each  of  the  three  outside  doors  as 
she  circumnavigated  the  house.  Finally  returning  to  the  wharf- 
ing  on  the  east  side  her  keen  eyes  saw  the  girl  in  the  field.  Mak- 
ing a  megaphone  of  her  hands  she  hallooed  till  Nell  felt  obliged 
to  answer  the  summons,  and  followed  by  the  reluctant  Lucille 
she  returned  to  the  house. 

Miss  Barry  surveyed  her  disapprovingly.  The  slender  figure 
clothed  in  coarse  brown  denim,  the  short  skirt  just  to  the  top 
of  the  stout  shoes,  were  not  to  her  liking.  The  man's  straw  hat 
pinned  to  the  tightly  coiled  beautiful  hair  on  the  top  of  the 
girl's  head  displeased  her  very  much.  The  face  and  neck  were 
tanned,  and  the  small  hands  calloused.  That  annoyed  her  as 
much  as  did  Nell's  fearless  straightforward  gaze  and  her  clear 
refined  voice.  "I  suppose  you  have  come  to  see  about  the  bill  I 
owe  your  brother,  Miss  Barry,"  she  remarked  pleasantly  as  she 
lead  the  way  into  the  sitting  room.  "I  am  very  sorry  to  tell  you 
that  at  present  I  have  no  means  whatever  of  paying  you." 

rtl  did  not  come  to  listen  to  any  hard  luck  stories.  My  busi- 
ness is  to  collect  my  brother's  long-standing  accounts.  It  is  no 
wonder  he  is  ill  after  dealing  with  dead  beats.  As  long  as  you 
have  not  filed  a  petition  of  bankruptcy  I  must  hold  you  respon- 
sible for  the  bill." 

Nell  controlled  her  temper  with  difficulty.  Her  voice  was 
calm  as  she  answered,  though  her  eyes  sparkled  dangerously.  "I 
was  never  accused  of  being  a  dead  beat  before,  Miss  Barry,  and 
I  warn  you  that  you  must  never  repeat  that  remark  again.  I 


82  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

told  you  that  I  would  pay  you  as  soon  as  I  possibly  could  do  so, 
and  with  that  you  must  be  content.  I  have  so  many  bills  to  meet 
and  so  many  expenses  that  I  have  to  ask  my  creditors  to  be 
patient." 

"They  all  tell  the  same  story,"  sniffed  the  woman.  "Yet 
all  can  afford  things  they  do  not  need.  You  claim  to  be  hard 
up.  Look  at  this  furniture,"  she  glanced  around  the  room  dis- 
approvingly. "I  have  been  told  that  your  house  is  full  of  old 
antique  things.  Why,  I  myself  will  take  that — and  that — and 
that,"  she  pointed  to  the  cherished  high-boy  and  low-boy,  and 
the  Revolutionary  musket  which  hung  on  the  wall  over  the 
sword  and  sabre  crossed  beneath  it.  "I  will  offer  you  enough 
to  pay  a  good  deal  of  the  debt.  Now  is  your  chance  to  show 
your  honesty,"  and  she  smiled  magnanimously. 

"Those  things  are  not  for  sale,  Miss  Barry ;  and  even  if  they 
were  they  would  bring  far  more  than  you  have  offered.  For 
years  our  grandfather  has  refused  to  part  with  them,  and  as  long 
as  I  am  able  to  work  they  shall  not  be  sold."  Nell's  voice  rang 
with  indignation,  and  Lucille,  listening  in  the  kitchen,  clapped 
her  hands  softly. 

"Then  there  is  no  use  for  you  to  talk  to  me  about  being 
honest  and  desiring  to  pay  your  lawful  debts,  which  my  brother 
out  of  the  great  kindness  of  his  heart  allowed  you  to  run," 
said  Miss  Barry  wrathfully.  "Of  course,  I  know  how  you  was 
turned  out  of  your  school  because  you  did  not  know  enough 
to  teach  it ;  I  know  that  that  stopped  your  ready  money,  but 
look  at  this  farm.  Look  at  your  sheep.  I  saw  them  on  the 
hill  as  I  drove  down,  and  I  counted  thirty  or  more  and  a  dozen 
or  so  fine  lambs.  And  there  is  that  fine  calf  in  the  pasture,  and 
the  cow,  and  while  I  was  waiting  for  you  I  saw  that  you  had 
two  fine  barrows  in  the  pen.  Besides,  you  have  a  team,  and 
are  able  to  spend  money  in  giving  one  sister  music  lessons  and 
sending  the  other  to  the  High.  It  looks  to  me  as  if  you  could 
pay  some  of  your  bills  if  you  wanted  to  very  bad.  Now,  what 
I  want,'"'  she  continued  shrilly,  effectually  drowning  Nell's  attempt 
to  speak,  "is  to  come  to  an  understanding.  If  you  intend  to 


SAREPTA    BARRY.  83 

pay  at  all,  there,  must  bei  some  system  about  it.  I  want  you 
to  agree  by  giving  a  note  to  pay  just  so  much  each  year,  and 
to  prove  that  you  are  in  earnest,  I  want  you  to  turn  over  to 
me  to-day  some  of  your  livestock.  I  forgot  to  mention  that 
handsome  yearling  colt.  I  will  give  you  credit  for  thirty-five 
dollars  for  that  on  the  bill." 

Nell  heard  Lucille  gasp  with  horror.  "That  colt  does  not 
belong  to  me,  Miss  Barry.  I  have  no  authority  over  it  wjiat- 
soever."  She  thought  rapidly.  "I  do  not  see  how  I  can  pay 
you  anything  before  Fall,  but  I  will  give  you  a  note  then  to 
pay  you  twenty-five  dollars  in  either  cash  or  farm  produce.  Your 
brother  has  taken  potatoes.  I  am  not  going  to  let  my  brothers 
and  sisters  go  hungry  for  the  sake  of  paying  the  bill,  and  as 
for  their  education,  that  is  something  with  which  you  have  no 
possible  concern." 

"I  will  agree  then  to  take  twenty-five  dollars'  worth  of  potatoes 
at  fifty  cents  a  bushel,  irrespective  of  the  price,  provided  they 
are  first  class,"  acquiesced  Miss  Barry  craftily. 

"No,  you  won't,"  interposed  Nell  sharply.  "If  the  potatoes 
are  a  dollar  a  bushel  you  are  not  going  to  get  them  for  fifty 
cents.  I  shall  make  out  that  note  to  read  that  I  will  pay  you 
the  sum  of  twenty-five  dollars  in  either  produce  or  cash  by 
November  first ;  the  produce  to  be  credited  at  the  highest  market 
price.  You  will  have  to  agree  to  that  or  I  will  not  give  you  a 
note  at  all." 

Miss  Barry  shook  her  finger  wrath  fully  at  the  girl.  "No 
wonder  my  brother's  health  failed  dealing  with  such  sharpers. 
I  will  tell  you  what  I  will  do.  What  do  you  ask  for  those  bar- 
rows? I  will  take  the  biggest  one  on  the  bill  to-day  as  a  guar- 
antee of  your  good  faith.  And  when  your  strawberries  are 
ripe  I  want  every  berry  that  is  marketable  brought  to  my  store, 
to  be  credited  on  that  note.  If  you  won't  do  this  I  shall  put 
the  bill  into  the  hands  of  a  collector  and  you  won't  get  off  as 
easy  as  you  will  with  me." 

Lucille  caught  the  pig  while  Nell  wrote  the  note.  The  woman 
haggled  a  little  over  the  price,  but  Nell  would  not  yield.  She 


84  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

drove  away  with  the  squealing  pig  in  the  bottom  of  her  car- 
riage. "Two  hog's  together,"  observed  Lucille,  "and  I  think  the 
four-legged  one  has  the  most  soul." 

"We  must  not  be  too  severe  in  our  judgment  of  her,  little 
girl.  She  thinks  she  is  acting  just  right  for  her  brother's  inter- 
ests, just  as  I  think  I  am  doing  the  best  for  my  family,"  sighed 
Nell,  fighting  to  keep  back  the  tears.  "I  never  believed  that  any- 
body would  ever  talk  as  mean  to  me  as  she  has  done." 

"And  yet  you  will  apologize  for  her,"  observed  the  girl  dis- 
gustedly. "I  know  that  I  will  starve  before  I  will  ever  enter 
her  old  store  again.  What  a  mistake  the  good  Lord  made  in 
not  letting  her  have  consumption  instead  of  her  brother;  but 
he  couldn't  because  there  is  nothing  of  her  to  be  consumed  but 
meanness,  and  that  lives  forever." 

Joe  Green  walked  in  soon  after  Miss  Barry  had  departed. 
She  had  driven  by  his  house  with  the  squealing  pig,  and  his 
curiosity  was  excited.  "I  don't  like  to  go  to  no  funerals,"  he 
began  abruptly,  "but  I  would  enjy  goin'  to  hern,"  he  announced 
meaningly. 

"So  would  I,"  cried  Lucille.  "You  just  ought  to  have  heard 
how  she  abused  Nell.  I  wish  I  had  ordered  her  out  of  the 
house." 

"I  never  spoke  but  one  piece  in  skule  in  my  life,"  he  returned, 
"and  I  can't  remember  all  on  it;  but  she  allers  makes  me  think 
of  it.  P'raps  she  thinks  folks  don't  know  how  derned  poor  her 
folks  was,  and  how  the  town  helped  'em  fer  a  long  while  when 
her  pa  was  sick.  But  we  do  reckom ember  it  all  right.  Her 
brother  ain't  that  way,  but  she  is  jest  the  pet-plant  I  learned 
about  oncet.  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  and  you  kin  have  your 
boys  learn  it  fer  a  kertation  in  school.  All  I  know  is  the  last 

verse.     It  is  about  a  leetle  posy  which  growed  in  a  ditch. 

~  ,^ 

'In  the  by-ways  of  life  how  often  there  are 
People  born  under  a  fortunate  star. 
By  beauty  or  talent  they  sudden  grow  rich, 
And  bloom  in  a  hothouse  instead  of  a  ditch. 


SAREPTA    BARRY.  85 

And  while  they  disdain  not  their  own  simple  stem, 
The  honors  they  win,  win  honors  for  them. 
But  when  like  the  Pet-plant  they  begin  to  grow  pert, 
We  soon  trace  them  back  to  their  primitive  dirt/ 

"Now,  that's  jest  Sarepta  Barry.  She  is  the  pet-plant  of 
the  piece,  that  was  took  out  of  a  ditch  and  put  in  a  hothouse, 
but  it  got  so  proud  and  over-bearin'  that  it  couldn't  be  endured^ 
Twice  as  stuck  up  as  the  plants  that  natchelly  growed  there. 
Now,  with  her  brother,  folks  never  throw  it  up  agin  him  because 
he  wuz  poor;  they  respect  him  fer  it,  but  Sarepta  acts  as  if 
she  was  allus  rich,  so  folks  like  to  think  about  the  ditch  frum 
which  she  was  took  when  her  brother  by  bein'  fair  and  square 
to  everybody  made  money.  Have  you  heard  how  she  has  b'en 
a  usin'  the  Willetts  up  in  the  Smith  deestrick?" 

"No."  Nell  was  all  attention.  "Mrs.  Willett  lost  her  school 
last  Fall  the  same  way  that  I  did.  What  has  Miss  Barry  done 
there?'' 

"Done!  I  could  tell  you  easier  what  she  hain't  done.  She 
hain't  sent  her  to  jail  fer  bein'  in  debt,  but  has  done  about 
everything  else.  You  know  Bill  Willett  is  one  of  the  shiftless 
kind  that  nothin'  ever  turns  out  jest  right  with  him,  and  besides 
he  is  consumptive — can't  work  half  the  time.  Not  the  gallopin' 
kind,  but  the  kind  that  will  go  a  mile  an  hour  if  he  feels  like 
it,  perty  much  like  the  last  hoss  that  I  got  from  Searls  when  I 
swopped.  So  with  her  husband  havin'  the  long-drawed-out 
lingerin'  kind  of  consumption  tackled  to  no  ambition,  Mrs.  Wil- 
lett has  had  a  hard  row  to  hoe.  They'd  got  a  little  home  most 
paid  fer  and  Barry  held  the  morgidge.  'Course  when  Miss 
Barry  cum  into  persession  she  foreclosed  that  and  turned  'em 
out  into  the  street.  They  hired  a  little  house  of  her  then,  all 
they  could  git,  and  the  use  of  some  land.  Blamed  ef  she  don't 
keep  the  screws  on  'em  harder  than  ever.  Got  to  come  down 
with  the  rent  every  first  day  uv  the  month  or  out  they  go.  She 
'tached  all  their  last  year's  crops  an'  has  even  got  a  morgidge 
on  their  cow  and  their  crops  this  year  ef  they  have  any.  Lucky 


86  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER, 

they  hain't  no  kids,  and  I'm  mighty  glad  that  Sarepta  Barry 
can't  tax  the  air  they  breathe.  The  water  in  their  well  is  so 
poor  they  can't  use  it,  but  she  won't  clean  it  out,  and  they  have 
to  cart  every  bit  uv  their  drinkin'  and  cookin'  water  a  plumb 
half  mile.  The  first  uv  this  month  it  wuz  rainin  and  blowin' 
suthin'  orful  one  night  when  who  should  knock  at  my  door  but 
that  skin-and-bone  Bill  Willett.  He'd  come  fer  the  old  woman 
to  know  ef  she  couldn't  cum  and  take  keer  uv  Mis'  Willett, 
who  wus  used  up  with  a  cold  she  caught  nussin'.  He  said  he 
couldn't  pay,  but  would  split  wood  or  anythin'  to  give  back  the 
favor.  The  old  woman  went  right  off,  and  thar  wa'n't  a  bite  in 
the  house,  nor  a  bit  of  wood  'nuther,  and  that  poor  sick  woman 
told  how  they  didn't  hev'  a  cent  to  pay  the  rent,  as  she  hadn't 
be'n  paid  for  her  last  nussin'.  Then  I  got  a  day  off  frum  Searls, 
who  told  me  to  haul  her  a  load  uv  wood  and  split  it  fer  her; 
an  Searls  sent  taters  and  groceries  and  paid  the  rent  fer  that 
month,  and  I  lent  Bill  anuther  five  to  help  'em  along.  Sech 
things  as  that  make  me  feel  as  if  I'd  like  to  go  to  that  woman's 
funeral.  The  Smith  deestrick  is  terrible  mad  about  their  Normal 
teacher.  They're  goin'  to  git  up  a  partishun  this  year  and  see  ef 
they  can't  git  Mis'  Willet  back  agin." 

"I  hope  they  will  succeed,"  said  Nell  warmly.  "She  is  worse 
off  than  I  am.  I  wish  Miss  Barry  could  be  made  to  feel  ashamed 
of  herself." 

"She  will  kotch  it  some  time,"  said  Joe  confidently.  "  'Ef  you 
'scape  it  when  young,  you  kotch  it  when  older,'  is  an  old  sayin'. 
The  old  man  wuz  tellin'  me  about  the  way  them  old  Greasers 
had  of  oystereyesen  folks." 

"Of  what!"  Nell  asked  in  bewilderment. 

"Your  Grandpa  said  that  them  Greasy  fellers  that  he  knows 
sech  a  sight  about  used  to  oystereyes  a  man  when  they  didn't 
like  him.  That  they  had  a  box  or  suthin  put  up  and  they 
would  all  throw  in  to  that  the  name  uv  the  man  they  hated  and 
make  him  leave  town.  That  was  oystereyes-en  'em;  so  I  think 
we'll  hev'  to  throw  some  oyster's  eyes  at  Miss  Barry  as  them 
Greasy  fellers  used  to  do." 


SAREPTA    BARRY.  87 

"Ostracize,"  corrected  Nell  laughingly.  "They  did  that  in 
Greece." 

Joe's  untrained  ear  did  not  catch  the  difference.  "That  is 
what  I  said — 'oyster-eyes'  her.  It  will  do  her  good.  But  she'll 
git  squeezed  mighty  hard  one  of  these  days  ef  the  Bible  is 
true,"  he  added,  "for  you  know  what  it  says  about  the  'pressor 
gittin'  pressed." 

"The  presser  getting  pressed,"  Nell  repeated  blankly. 

"P'raps  it  was  that  when  the  'pressed  becomes  the  'pressor, 
that  the  dickens  is  to  pay,"  he  corrected  his  first  statement  judic- 
iously. "I've  allers  noticed  that  when  a  beggar  gits  a  hoss  he'll 
ride  hard;  and  if  a  feller  has  allers  been  pressed  hard,  he's 
mighty  apt,  ef  he  gits  a  chance  to  do  it,  to  press  jest  as  hard 
and  mebbe  a  leetle  mite  harder  than  he  was  pressed  himself. 
That  is  what  I'm  thinkin'  about  Sarepta  Barry.  Fust  she  was 
the  pressed;  now  she's  the  'pressor;  but  ef  the  wheel  ever  turn? 
so  she  gits  to  be  the  'pressed  agin,  won't  I  help  squeeze  if  I  git 
a  chance.  She'll  come  out  flatter  than  the  scraps  dew  after 
we've  squeezed  all  the  lard  out  on  'em.  I  ain't  no  use  fer  that 
woman;  and  I  don't  believe  the  Lord  has  'nuther.  If  he  did 
he'd  take  her.  And  as  fer  the  devil,  she  has  got  so  much  of 
his  disposition  that  he  don't  want  her.  She  is  rich  now,  and  ef 
she  keeps  on  doin'  as  she  has  begun  she'll  be  like  a  haw g;  jest 
'cumulatin'  fat  money  all  the  time  till  folks  will  wish  she  was 
dead  to  find  out  what  she  reely  was  wuth." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

SOLVING  PROBLEMS. 

That  evening  Searls  Jackson  came  for  his  weekly  call.  The 
hour  with  him  was  the  one  bright  spot  in  the  week  of  toil. 
Though  she  saw  him  frequently  during  the  intervening  days 
when  .driving  by,  he  would  stop  for  a  moment's  chat  on  the  pre- 
text of  getting  a  cool  drink  from  the  deep  well  by  the  west  door, 
yet  that  one  evening  of  the  week  was  the  time  when  she  could 
talk  with  him  undisturbed.  Though  Grandpa  had  asked  no 
questions,  yet  she  knew  that  he  believed  they  had  come  to  an 
understanding,  and  he  left  them  alone.  Lucille  and  Madaline 
also  managed  to  interest  the  small  boys  elsewhere,  and  so  'neath 
the  twisted  elm,  which  Grandpa  had  brought  up  from  the  river 
bank  when  it  was  but  a  sapling  and  had  set  out  on  one  side  of 
the  big  front  gate,  as  a  mate  to  the  thriving  young  elm  on  the 
right  side,  she  would  entertain  him,  seated  on  the  rustic  bench 
which  Grandpa  had  built  there  for  his  own  enjoyment  on  hot 
afternoons. 

"The  Twisted  Trysting  Tree''  Madaline  christened  it  in  a 
tongue-twisting  alliteration  when  Searls  began  calling  on 
Wednesday  evenings.  She  was  waiting  for  him  that  night  while 
watching  Carlos,  who  was  patiently  teaching  a  brace  of  yellow 
kittens  to  jump  through  a  hoop.  "When  they  get  it  learned 
I  will  take  my  animals  through  the  town  and  give  exhibitions 
with  them,"  he  cried  excitedly,  "and  then  perhaps  I  will  make 
money  enough  to  pay  Miss  Barry  myself.  Miss  Dallas  wants 
me  to  take  her  two  dogs  this  Summer  and  teach  them  all  the 
tricks  I  can.  She  says  she  will  pay  their  board  and  me  too.  I 
told  her  that  I  knew  you  would  say  yes,  as  you  said  to-day  that 
the  Good  Lord  was  the  only  one  who  knew  where  I  was  going 
to  get  any  clothes,  as  all  the  money  had  to  go  in  bills ;  and  I  told 
her  that  I  had  prayed  in  my  prayers  for  the  Lord  to  send  me 
pants  and " 

"What's  this?"  interrupted  Searls'  hearty  voice,  as  he  came 


SOLVING    PROBLEMS.  89 

up  behind  them  unnoticed.  "What  have  you  been  telling  Miss 
Dallas  now,  kiddie?  I  guess  it  is  something  your  sister  is 
shocked  at.  I  know  by  the  look  on  her  face." 

"Indeed  it  is,"  said  Nell  warmly.  "This  terrible  youngster 
has  been  quoting  me  offhand  to  Miss  Dallas.  She  must  think 
I  am  a  terrible  sort  of  creature.  I've  tried  punishments,  but 
nothing  prevents  these  boys  from  swearing  by  me  constantly." 

"On  the  contrary,  she  has  a  very  high  regard  for  you  and  for 
the  children.  Did  Manning  tell  you  how  he  refused  to  let  the 
Green  boys  ride  on  his  wheel  the  other  day  when  they  were  so 
troublesome.  Miss  Dallas  said  she  overheard  him  telling  them 
that  if  they  could  not  behave  in  school  they  could  not  play  with 
him." 

"No,  he  did  not  tell  it,  but  Kenton  did.  That  old  wheel  he 
enjoys  immensely.  You  know  how  he  made  it;  picked  up  the 
wheels  in  one  place,  the  seat  in  another  and  the  pedals  somewhere 
else.  That  boy  is  a  genius  with  tools.  Just  now  he  is  tinkering 
on  an  automobile  up  in  the  shop.  He  is  conjuring  up  one  out 
of  some  boards  and  soap  boxes  and  the  wheels  that  city  fellow 
who  was  at  your  house  last  year  discarded.  I  think  they  belonged 
to  his  tandem  bicycle  which  broke  down,  didn't  they?" 

"That  is  what  Manning  wanted  of  them,  was  it?  He  told 
me  he  would  give  me  fifteen  cents  apiece  for  them,  all  the  money 
he  had,"  he  laughingly  told  her,  "but  I  told  him  I  did  not  need 
the  money,  but  if  he  would  drive  up  the  cows  he  could  have 
them.  He  said  he  was  going  to  make  something  with  them.  He 
will  be  an  inventor,  Nell." 

"I  don't  know  what  he  will  be,"  remarked  Grandpa,  walking 
up  to  them,  "but  I  know  what  he  is  now.  He  is  what  Artemus 
Ward  said  about  the  kangaroo — an  amoosin'  little  scamp." 

"That  isn't  fair,"  protested  Nell.  "There  is  not  a  thing  wrong 
with  Manning  but  mischief,  but  he  is  at  that  continually,"  she 
added,  joining  in  the  laugh.  "Of  course  he  uses  all  the  tools,  but 
I  make  him  put  them  back  when  he  gets  through  with  them,  so 
there  is  no  harm  done." 

"I  want  your  opinion  regarding  keeping  Miss  Gordon  another 


90  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

year,"  said  Searls  presently.  "It  will  all  depend  on  the  report  I 
send  in.  Of  course  the  district  is  against  her — they  would  be 
against  any  Normal  teacher — but  my  mother  wants  her  to  return, 
and  I  think  she  wants  to  come  back.  She  will  feel  herself  ever- 
lastingly disgraced  if  she  is  not  engaged  again." 

Something  in  his  tone  made  Nell  think  that  he  would  rather 
she  did  not  return  on  her,  Nell's,  account,  so  she  hastened  to  say 
everything  favorable  regarding  the  school  that  she  could.  She 
spoke  of  the  progress  Carlos  had  made  in  all  his  studies — of  the 
knowledge  all  three  boys  had  acquired  of  the  birds  and  the 
flowers — of  what  they  had  learned  of  the  poets  and  artists — of  the 
skill  they  had  acquired  in  drawing  and  clay  modeling,  and  of  the 
accuracy  with  which  they  could  make  a  relief  map  in  sand.  She 
also  commended  the  training  they  had  received  in  singing,  but 
she  said  nothing  of  the  fact  that  she  and  the  older  girls  had  been 
obliged  to  coach  Manning  in  his  arithmetic  all  Winter,  for  of 
that  subject  he  was  learning  nothing  at  all  at  school. 

"I  am  glad  you  speak  so  favorably,"  he  rejoined.  "There  is 
such  a  kick  against  her  methods.  We  West  Winthrop  people, 
you  know,  favor  drilling  in  the  three  R's  and  spelling  book  with- 
out any  frills.  And  that  is  just  what  she  does  not  do.  The  chil- 
dren are  learning  all  sorts  of  fol-de-rols,  the  district  thinks,  but 
the  Normal  School  visitors  regard  her  work  as  satisfactory; 
though  I  hardly  think  they  could  force  her  on  us  again  if  there 
was  a  united  opposition.  Green  has  been  telling  me  to-day  that 
up  in  the  Smith  District  the  people  have  absolutely  refused  to 
have  a'Normal  teacher  another  year,  and  that  they  want  their  old 
stand-by,  Mrs.  Willett,  to  teach  there  again." 

"What  a  gossip  that  Joe  Green  is ;  he  hears  everything  in  the 
county.  But  I  did  not  suppose  that  the  district  would  or  could 
refuse  a  Normal  teacher  now  that  the  State  has  so  much  control." 

"It  has  been  done  there  all  right;  and  Joe  says  that  the  dis- 
trict wish  to  put  you  back  in  the  school.  He  says  that  if  each 
family  will  sign  a  paper  saying  the  school  has  been  decidedly 
unsatisfactory  the  Normal  Board  will  give  up,  for  a  year  at  least. 
Here  is  your  chance,  Nell.  Do  you  want  your  old  school  back  ?" 


SOLVING    PROBLEMS.  91 

"Do  I  want  my  old  school  back?  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  if 
I  sign  that  paper  in  all  probability  I  can  teach  here  again?"  she 
questioned  in  amazement. 

"In  all  probability  you  can,"  he  replied.  "Of  course  I  would 
hire  no  one  but  you ;  neither  would  the  district  have  anyone  else. 
What  do  you  say  ?" 

For  a  fleeting  moment  the  girl's  heart  thrilled  with  joy.  She 
was  to  go  back  to  the  pleasant  work  in  her  beloved  schoolroom  at 
ten.  dollars  a  week.  There  would  be  the  ready  money  to  pay  all 
the  debts,  and  she  would  not  be  so  everlastingly  harassed  with  the 
eternal  question  as  to  the  wherewithal  whereby  the  family  should 
be  fed  and  clothed.  Curiously  enough,  the  text  which  Grandpa 
so  often  quoted  flashed  into  her  mind,  "He  that  putteth  his  hand 
to  the  plow  and  turneth  back  is  not  fit  for  the  kingdom  of  God." 
It  ran  something  like  that.  She  had  put  her  hand  to  the  plow, 
and  for  her  there  could  be  no  turning  back.  Dallas  Gordon  was 
conscientiously  doing  the  best  that  lay  in  her,  according  to  the 
new  methods  of  teaching,  the  Normal  methods  which  Nell  her- 
self had  been  so  anxious  to  obtain.  She  knew  that  she  was  not 
up  to  date,  and  that  Miss  Gordon  was.  She  was  educating 
Madaline  to  be  a  Normal  teacher,  who  would  be  certainly  as 
advanced  as  the  girl  she  was  expected  to  supplant  if  she  signed 
that  paper.  No;  a  thousand  times  no.  She  had  been  deposed 
herself,  and  she  would  not  hold  the  same  cup  to  the  lips  of 
another  teacher  to  drink. 

"I  will  not  sign  any  paper  to  put  Miss  Gordon  out  of  the 
school,"  she  answered  firmly.  "And  you  may  tell  Joe  Green  to 
tell  the  district  for  me,  that  I  regard  Miss  Gordon  as' a  successful 
Normal  teacher  and  hope  she  will  come  back  another  year." 

"Nell,"  said  Searls  a  little  huskily;  "you  are  the  most  manly 
girl  I  ever  know.  You  have  more  honor  about  you  than  nine- 
tenths  of  the  women  and  ninety-nine  per  cent  of  the  men.  I 
knew  what  your  answer  would  be." 

Finally  they  spoke  of  other  things,  and  she  told  of  Miss 
Barry's  dunning  call.  He  listened  without  comment;  that  was 
his  way,  and  she  liked  him  for  his  unspoken  sympathy.  He  did 


92  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

not  offer  her  the  money  to  pay  the  bill,  for  he  knew  that  she 
would  refuse  it.  Instead  he  talked  with  her  about  her  work  and 
told  her  how  he  made  a  dollar  double  itself;  he  did  not  give 
advice;  he  simply  told  his  way,  and  Nell  listening  eagerly  re- 
solved to  profit  by  what  he  said.  It  was  a  business  courtship 
they  carried  on  beneath  the  Twisted  Trysting  Tree,  saying  more 
of  the  every-day  affairs  of  life  than  of  love,  and  parting  at  an 
early  hour ;  for  not  even  for  the  sake  of  the  man  she  loved  could 
Nell  afford  to  lose  many  of  her  precious  hours  for  sleep.  It  was 
the  only  night  in  seven  when  she  failed  to  go  to  bed  at  dusk, 
leaving  Lucille  to  look  after  the  boys  and  Grandpa  to  lock  the 
house  for  the  night. 

So  hard  did  she  work  and  so  constantly  were  her  thoughts 
occupied  with  farming  that  she  was  scarcely  conscious  of  the 
flight  of  time.  The  school  closed  in  early  June,  and  Miss  Gordon 
was  re-engaged,  to  the  great  disgust  of  the  district.  All  felt  that 
if  Nell  had  only  signed  the  paper  she  could  have  had  her  old 
place  again;  the  gossip  reached  the  teacher's  ears  at  length,  and 
she  wrote  Nell  a  grateful  letter,  expressing  the  wish  that  when 
she  returned  they  could  be  friends  and  that  Nell  would  help 
her  by  her  advice  in  the  school.  Nell  answered  at  once,  disclaim- 
ing any  credit  for  her  generous  act,  but  the  pleasure  of  being 
appreciated  more  than  recompensed  her  for  the  loss  of  the  school. 

There  were  days  when  she  was  obliged  to  stay  in  the  house 
and  sew  for  the  children.  They  belonged  to  the  Juvenile  Grange 
and  the  Sunday  School,  and  their  clothes  had  to  be  kept  ready 
for  the  special  exercises,  the  picnics  and  the  outings.  There  were 
stormy  days,  when  nothing  could  be  done  outdoors,  and  then  she 
bent  every  energy  to  the  accumulated  mending.  Being  both  man 
and  woman  was  a  serious  task  on  her  strength  and  executive 
ability,  but  her  home  compared  favorably  with  her  neighbors', 
and  her  crops  were  equal  to  the  cracks  farmers  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, including  Searls  Jackson. 

The  strawberries  were  almost  a  failure.  The  early  June  frost 
nipped  them,  so  she  harvested  scarcely  two  bushels.  The  great 
majority  Miss  Barry  was  on  hand  to  claim  promptly,  and  against 


SOLVING    PROBLEMS.  93 

the  tears  of  the  boys  Nell  was  obliged  to  let  them  go  toward  the 
debt.  However,  they  managed  to  have  about  a  dozen  baskets  for 
their  own  use,  and  Nell,  profiting  by  the  lesson  learned  by  that 
season's  failure,  resolved  to  bend  every  energy  another  season 
to  make  her  strawberries  profitable. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  she  never  entered  the  house  that  Sum- 
mer but  she  found  Lucille  either  chasing  flies  or  making  war  on 
the  dust  and  litter  stirred  up  by  the  boys.  Madaline,  like  all 
younger  sisters,  positively  would  not  work  under  Lucille,  but  she 
would  work  outdoors  with  Nell  and  work  faithfully,  either  hoeing 
in  the  cornfield  and  garden  or  else  working  in  the  hayfield.  Nell 
had  written  to  Bob,  not  asking  for  money,  but  telling  him  that  she 
saw  no  way  but  that  she  would  have  to  do  the  haying  herself 
that  year.  He  did  not  answer  at  once,  so  stifling  the  faint  hope 
that  he  would  send  money  to  hire  help  she  began  the  haying 
herself  with  the  help  of  the  children  and  Grandpa.  She  had 
often  ridden  the  rake,  but  the  mowing  machine  was  new  work. 
She  reasoned  that  it  could  not  be  much  worse  than  the  harrow, 
so  she  dauntlessly  mounted  it  and  began  work  in  the  easiest  field. 
She  set  Manning  to  the  job  of  riding  the  tedder  and  rake; 
Grandpa  mowed  the  side  hills  and  the  corners  with  his  scythe  and 
the  girls  and  Kenton  followed  with  the  hand  rakes.  Mowing  it 
away  in  the  barn  was  the  hardest,  as  there  was  no  hay  fork  in  the 
old-fashioned  hundred-year-old  barn;  but  with  two  weeks  of 
perfect  weather  they  had  the  satisfaction  of  having  done  all  their 
haying  themselves,  and  of  beating  a  few  of  the  neighbors,  includ- 
ing Searls  Jackson. 

She  dreaded  the  oats.  The  wind  had  flattened  them  so  badly 
that  she  was  afraid  to  cut  them.  Besides,  their  reaper  was  out 
of  repair,  and  there  was  no  money  to  spend  in  repairing  it.  She 
was  debating  how  she  could  raise  the  money  to  hire  them  cut 
when  she  heard  the  song  of  the  reaper  in  the  field.  Searls  had 
sent  Joe  Green  over  with  his  team  to  get  them  in. 

"He  told  me,"  explained  Joe,  when  Nell  questioned  his  being 
there,  "that  he  was  not  going  to  have  the  finest  piece  of  oats  in 
the  town  spoiled  while  you  were  waiting  to  get  some  one  to  reap 


94  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

them.  He  said  to  tell  you  that  he  was  coming  over  to-night  to 
dicker  for  some  of  the  lambs  in  payment,"  he  grinned  broadly, 
"you  know  that  Searls  is  allus  looking  how  he  can  make  a  penny, 
and  he  thinks  this  is  a  chance  to  get  some  fine  lambs  at  his  own 
price." 

He  laughed  that  night  when  the  girl  took  him  to  task  for  his 
kindness.  "I  wanted  to  send  a  team  in  to  do  the  haying,  but  I 
could  not  manage  it  very  well,  for  you  had  finished  before  I  was 
half  through.  The  neighbors  say  they  never  saw  hay  put  in 
better  than  yours  has  been.  That  Manning  is  the  boy  to  rake 
and  tedder.  I  think  I  shall  have  to  hire  him  myself  next  year. 
How  many  times  did  you  get  thrown  from  the  mowing  machine  ?" 

"Not  once,"  she  returned  proudly.  "Manning  knew  just 
where  every  stone  big  enough  to  cause  trouble  was,  in  each  field ; 
so  he  decorated  each  one  with  a  reel  cloth  tied  on  a  pole  and 
planted  in  the  ground,  and  I  was  careful  not  to  hit  them.  In 
fact,  I  did  not  go  near  enough  to  hit  them.  Grandpa  said  that  if 
I  gave  Satan  as  wide  a  berth  as  I  did  the  stones,  that  he  would 
never  get  me." 

He  laughed.  "If  you  keep  on,  Miss  Nell,  you  will  make  us 
veteran  farmers  sit  up  and  take  notice.  But  these  oats  are  my 
affair.  It  isn't  an  act  of  kindness,  or  of  charity,  or  of  generosity. 
It  is  selfish  business,  first,  last  and  always,"  he  announced  gravely. 
"I  shall  charge  you  so  much  for  harvesting  the  oats" ;  he  named  a 
fair  price,  "and  in  payment  I  want  lambs  enough  to  cover  the 
bill.  You  are  going  to  sell  them  anyway,  so  I  might  as  well  have 
them.  I  will  pay  you  just  what  I  think  they  are  worth.  You 
know  I  drive  hard  bargains."  His  voice  was  grave,  though  his 
eyes  twinkled. 

Nell  agreed,  but  when  she  settled  she  found  that  his  ideas 
of  what  they  were  worth  was  nearly  as  much  again  as  the  market 
price. 

"They  are  worth  that  much  to  me,"  he  said,  when  she  remon- 
strated; "you  can  let  Miss  Barry  have  them  at  the  price  you 
wanted  me  to  pay." 

September  came  again,  and  Madaline  returned  to  school.     She 


SOLVING    PROBLEMS.  95 

lead  her  class  at  the  High,  the  same  as  in  the  district  school. 
Miss  Gordon  came  back  to  the  school  to  find  the  people  more 
hostile  to  her  than  ever,  and  then  Nell  decided  it  was  time  that 
she  showed  her  hand.  She  invited  the  perplexed  teacher  to  her 
house,  and  talked  with  her  of  the  best  ways  to  combine  both  plain 
and  Normal  teaching  to  suit  the  critical  patrons  of  the  school. 
She  went  farther,  and  visited  the  school  one  afternoon,  and 
addressing  the  children  she  commended  Miss  Gordon's  work. 
She  also  spoke  with  the  different  families,  and  gradually  the  deep- 
rooted  opposition  to  the  Normal  methods  became  less  and  less. 

"Many  daughters  have  done  virtuously,  but  thou  excellest 
them  all,"  quoted  Searls  to  her  soon  after.  "Nell,  you  are  a  won- 
der. I  believe  that  little  Miss  Dallas  will  canonize  you  as  a  saint. 
Joe  Green  tells  me  that  the  folks  say  that  'ef  yew  can  put  up  with 
Normal  nonsense  atter  the  way  you  learned  the  young  uns  thet 
they  kin,  too.  He  told  his  boys  thet  he'd  lick  the  daylights  clean 
outen  'em  ef  they  give  the  teacher  any  more  sass',"  he  drawled  in 
exact  mimicry,  "and  the  old  woman  says  'that  what  is  good 
enough  fer  Nell  Beverly  is  good  enough  for  her,' "  he  added. 

"So  she  has  forgiven  me  for  not  hiring  Joe  to  do  my  work," 
said  the  girl.  "There  was  a  while  she  would  not  speak  to  me; 
and  I  understand  that  she  was  scandalized  because  I  did  not  try 
to  go  to  church  after  I  began  working  outdoors.  The  rest  of  the 
family  have  attended,  but  I  concluded  that  I  needed  rest  more 
than  I  did  sermons.  I  received  a  letter  from  Bob  to-day.  See 
what  he  sent  me."  She  abruptly  changed  the  subject,  as  she 
handed  Searls  a  folded  paper. 

He  opened  it  slowly. 

"Is  it  a  check  for  a  million?  I  see  it  has  a  grandiloquent- 
looking  seal  stamped  on  it,"  he  said  teasingly. 

"It  is  a — oh,  you  can  see  for  yourself,"  she  returned  impa- 
tiently. "He  knows  how  badly  I  must  need  some  help,  yet  he 
sends  me  that ;  a  certificate  of  mining  stock  in  my  name  for  which 
he  has  paid  a  hundred  dollars.  He  writes  that  now  he  has  satis- 
factorily demonstrated  his  love  for  me,  by  presenting  me  with  a 
block  of  stock  which  will  make  me  a  Hetty  Green  almost  imme- 


96  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

diately,"  she  continued  sarcastically.  "I  shall  probably  commence 
receiving  dividends  by  day  after  to-morrow,  and  have  a  steam 
yacht  and  an  automobile  by  next  week.  If  he  had  sent  me  a 
third  of  that  in  money  I  should  have  been  grateful.  I  wish  that 
I  knew  some  fool  who  would  buy  it  from  me,"  she  added 
wretchedly. 

"Here  is  one,"  and  Searls  took  out  his  pocketbook.  "I  will 
buy  it  from  you  to-night  at  an  advance  of  10  per  cent.  You  know 
I  always  set  my  own  price." 

"But  I  did  not  mean  you,"  cried  the  girl  confusedly.  "I  was 
so  disgusted  that  I  hardly  knew  what  I  said.  I  am  not  going  to 
permit  you  squander  money  even  if  Bob  did." 

"I  am  not  squandering  it,"  he  returned.  "I  simply  want  to 
buy  this  stock.  I  know  something  about  these  mining  properties, 
and  I  do  not  doubt  but  that,  after  a  time,  those  shares  will  sell 
for  considerably  more  than  three  cents  a  share.  Will  you  sell 
it  to  me  ?" 

"Yes,  if  you  are  in  earnest,"  she  answered,  "though,  of  course, 
Bob  would  be  dreadfully  angered  if  he  knew  it.  It  was  really  kind 
of  him  to  spend  his  money  for  me  this  way,  and  no  doubt  he 
thinks  he  has  done  a  great  thing.  He  sent  Lucille  a  check  for  $10 
to  carry  on  her  music,  and  a  dollar  each  to  the  others.  He  wrote 
that  as  fast  as  he  could  he  should  purchase  blocks  of  stock  for 
the  rest  of  us,  beginning  with  Lucille.  Grandpa  said  that  I  would 
have  a  much  more  certain  gold  mine  if  I  had  the  price  of  this 
certificate  invested  in  fruit  and  berries.  He  thinks  I  should  work 
this  into  a  fruit  farm.  It  would  not  be  such  hard  work." 

"That  is  where  Grandpa  is  level-headed.  I  will  tell  you  what 
I  will  do,  Nell.  I  will  buy  this  block  from  you  to-night,  and  will 
give  you  a  written  guarantee  that  any  time  you  wish  to  buy  it 
back  you  shall  have  it  at  cost.  That  will  satisfy  Bob.  Then  you 
take  this  money  and  set  it  out  to  fruit.  I  have  been  thinking 
of  suggesting  the  same  thing,  and  now  is  your  opportunity.  What 
do  you  say?" 

The  transfer  was  made,  and  Grandpa  was  called  down  from 
his  study,  where  he  was  lovingly  translating  Shakespeare's  trag- 


SOLVING    PROBLEMS.  97 

edies  into  Greek,  into  a  conference  on  fruit  culture.  His  ideas 
tallied  with  Searls'  exactly,  and  Nell  agreed  delightedly.  The 
next  day  the  three  made  their  plans  more  fully;  the  site  was 
selected  for  the  peach  orchard  in  the  cold  north  lot,  and  plans 
were  made  to  use  the  west  lot  for  the  cherry,  pear  and  young  apple 
trees.  The  order  was  sent  to  a  responsible  nursery  within  a 
week,  and  Grandpa  willingly  left  the  study  for  the  work  of 
getting  the  ground  ready  for  the  berry  bushes,  of  which  they 
had  ordered  different  varieties. 

The  little  bird  that  always  carries  the  news  in  country  towns 
soon  informed  Miss  Barry  that  Nell  Beverly  had  sent  an  order 
for  a  hundred  dollars'  worth  of  fruit  trees.  If  she  could  squan- 
der money  that  way  she  could  pay  her  honest  debts,  that  lady 
reasoned,  so  she  once  more  paid  the  girl  a  visit.  Nell  was  cut- 
ting corn  that  clear  morning  when  the  woman  suddenly  appeared 
to  her  and  demanded  that  she  pay  at  least  another  twenty-five 
by  New  Year's  Day,  or  she  would  make  things  interesting. 
"Anyone  who  had  money  to  squander  on  fruit  trees  had  money 
to  pay  debts,"  she  declared,  and  the  girl,  disdaining  to  explain 
how  she  had  received  the  money,  and  too  hurt  to  bandy  words, 
gave  her  note  for  fifty  instead  of  twenty-five,  though  she  regret- 
ted it  the  moment  she  had  passed  over  the  paper. 

The  same  old  problem  confronted  her  that  year  as  it  did  last, 
only  she  had  more  means  at  her  command.  Her  potatoes  had 
yielded  fairly  well.  She  allowed  a  generous  supply  for  their 
own  use  through  the  year,  and  found  she  could  transfer  ten 
bushels  to  Miss  Barry.  She  obliged  that  woman  to  credit  her  the 
full  price,  a  dollar  a  bushel,  which  she  did  under  protest.  She 
also  sold  her  several  bushels  of  turnips,  and  with  the  strawberries 
already  credited  the  first  note  of  twenty-five  dollars  was  met. 

Other  farm  produce  was  sold,  and  the  family  was  clothed 
for  the  Winter,  but  as  the  time  drew  near  to  pay  the  second 
note  she  could  see  no  way  of  raising  the  full  amount  without 
selling  the  fatted  hog.  If  she  did,  the  family  would  be  without 
meat  for  the  Winter,  excepting  what  they  could  afford  to  buy. 
She  pondered  long  over  the  problem.  Grandpa  and  the  children 


98  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

were  indignant  over  it;  Madaline  especially  so.  They  lived  on 
little  enough  as  it  was,  but  to  sell  away  their  Winter's  meat  to  a 
rich  woman  was  an  outrage.  She  did  not  tell  Searls  of  her 
trouble.  She  was  afraid  he  would  offer  her  the  money  and  then 
be  angry  if  she  refused  it.  She  knew  the  creature  was  worth  at 
least  twenty-five  dollars,  for  several  told  her  so.  One  day  he 
offered  her  thirty,  live  weight.  "Pork  will  be  very  high  this 
year,"  he  said,  "and  I  am  not  taking  any  chances  on  losing.  I 
have  an  order  for  a  thousand  pounds,  and  I  need  this  one.  What 
do  you  say  about  letting  me  have  her?  Her  price  will  provide 
your  family  plenty  of  good  beef." 

Nell  took  the  money  and  thus  made  up  her  note.  Miss  Barry 
received  it  eagerly.  "If  you  can  raise  money  like  this,"  she  said, 
'when  you  are  forced  to  it,  you  may  just  as  well  sign  another 
note  to  pay  twenty-five  again  in  three  months." 

"I  will  not  do  it,"  the  girl  answered  angrily.  "I  have  almost 
starved  my  family  already  to  pay  this  sum  of  seventy-five  dollars, 
and  not  another  dollar  will  you  get  till  I  have  raised  more  crops. 
Put  it  into  the  hands  of  a  collector,  or  do  anything  you  please, 
for  all  that  I  care.  I  can't  do  any  more  than  I  can,  and  that  is 
all  there  is  about  it." 

Miss  Barry  gasped.  "Oh,  very  well,  if  you  are  so  highty- 
tighty  about  it.  Talk  about  your  family;  why  don't  you  marry 
Searls  Jackson  and  be  done  with  it?  Then  you  will  have  money 
to  pay  your  bills.  I  understand  that  he  is  running  after  you. 
And  you  could  have  had  your  old  school,  I  hear,  if  you  would 
have  taken  it.  Guess  you  are  not  very  anxious  about  your  debts, 
after  all,"  she  sneered. 

Nell  cried  herself  to  sleep  that  night.  Was  there  any  slavery 
in  the  world,  she  questioned  dumbly,  as  terrible  as  the  awful 
slavery  of  debt? 


CHAPTER  IX. 

LUCILLE    SAVES    THE    HOUSE. 

The  March  wind  was  making  merry  over  the  flats  of  West 
Winthrop  one  bright  Saturday,  sending  everything  that  was  not 
firmly  anchored  to  the  ground  flying  skyward,  and  causing  the 
fire  in  the  big  kitchen  range  to  burn  out  so  rapidly  that  Lucille's 
patience  began  to  wear  threadbare.  She  had  so  much  baking 
that  she  wished  to  accomplish  that  morning,  and  she  was  alarmed 
lest  all  the  semi-dry  wood  which  she  had  been  accumulating 
since  Wednesday  should  be  used  up  before  the  last  pies  were 
out  of  the  oven.  She  and  Kenton  were  all  alone  on  the  farm. 
Grandpa  had  taken  Manning  with  him  to  an  auction,  and  Nell, 
with  Madaline  and  Carlos,  had  gone  to  Winthrop.  Kenton  had 
offered  to  stay  at  home.  There  was  some  surgery  that  needed 
doing.  Carlos  had  been  training  the  pig  to  smoke  a  pipe  and 
walk  on  his  hind  legs.  In  some  way  he  had  slipped  and  lamed 
one  leg.  Kenton  had  put  it  into  a  rude  splint,  and  his  pigship 
was  apparently  improving.  A  flying  board  had  lamed  the  old 
gobbler,  and  the  boy  desired  to  doctor  him.  He  was  having  a 
rather  difficult  time  of  it,  and  started  back  to  the  house  to  see  if 
Lucille  would  not  help  him,  when  he  saw  the  heavy  clouds  of 
black  smoke  rolling  out  of  the  chimney  and  the  strong  odor  of 
burning  soot  was  borne  on  the  high  wind. 

The  girl  had  just  stuffed  the  fire-box  full  with  her  last  dry 
wood,  preparatory  for  the  last  pies,  when  the  boy  rushed  in 
screaming  the  news.  With  not  a  second  of  waiting  she  felt  of 
the  fTreboard  behind  the  range — it  was  not  hotter  than  usual — 
then  she  ran  out  of  the  east  door  to  verify  the  news  herself.  The 
heavy  clouds  of  smoke  sent  her  flying  back  into  the  house,  and 
up  the  two  flights  of  stairs  to  the  garret,  where  the  big  chimney 
raised  its  massive  pile,  unhid,  to  the  roof.  She  felt  of  the  stones 
from  the  floor  up  as  high  as  she  could  reach.  They  were  getting 
hot,  though  not  dangerously  so,  and  she  thought  the  fire  must  be 
lower  down.  In  Grandpa's  room  she  found  the  fireboard  was 


100  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

scorching  hot,  even  with  its  zinc  back,  and  it  was  the  same  in  the 
opposite  room  which  was  her's  and  her  sisters'.  Kenton  had 
been  at  her  heels  all  the  time.  She  sent  him  racing  to  the  barn 
for  the  longest  rake  he  could  find.  She  tore  off  her  gingham 
apron,  which  covered  her  old  woolen  dress.  She  tied  up  her 
head  in  a  strip  of  flannel,  and  fastened  a  silk  handkerchief  over 
her  mouth  and  nose.  When  the  boy  returned  she  was  struggling 
with  the  fireboard  behind  the  kitchen  range. 

The  range  was  set  so  close  to  it  that  they  had  difficulty  in 
pulling  it  entirely  away.  Finally  it  was  set  to  one  side,  and  she 
stepped  back  into  the  old-fashioned  fireplace  and  looked  up  into 
the  great  chimney,  filled  with  hazy  smoke,  but  even  with  the 
second  floor  she  saw  that  the  soot  was  glowing  with  smoldering 
fire.  Reaching  up  with  the  rake  she  pulled  down  a  charring  mat 
of  it,  which  fell  with  a  thud  to  the  wide  stone  floor  of  the  chim- 
ney. Kenton  was  ready  for  it  and  shoveled  it  into  the  big  brass 
kettle  Lucille  had  told  him  to  get.  The  terrible  sickening  smell 
of  the  soot  would  have  strangled  her  if  it  had  not  been  for  the 
handkerchief.  Back  in  the  depths  of  the  chimney  she  was  in 
no  great  danger,  yet  it  took  nerve  for  the  girl  to  stand  there  and 
rake  down  mat  after  mat  of  the  burning  soot,  which  the  small 
boy  shoveled  into  the  kettles,  old  pans,  and  galvanized  tubs.  Up 
on  the  side  of  the  fireplace  were  broken  places  where  bricks  had 
fallen  out.  Climbing  up  by  using  such  spots  for  foot  rests,  she 
was  able  to  reach  several  feet  higher  with  the  rake.  She  felt 
she  was  gaining  a  little,  but  the  mass  of  the  burning  soot  was 
above  her  reach.  Fanned  by  the  draft  underneath,  it  was  begin- 
ning to  roar  threateningly,  and  she  called  to  Kenton  that  he 
must  run  for  help,  though  with  every  man  in  the  neighborhood 
gone  to  the  auction  the  chances  for  aid  was  slim.  A  strange 
voice  answered  her,  and  looking  down  she  saw  a  mass  of  red 
hair  surmounting  a  soot-streaked  face.  "What  are  you  doing 
up  there,  Topsy?"  called  a  voice  from  somewhere  in  the  smoky 
depths. 

"Look  out,  you  will  set  the  bottom  of  the  chimney  afire  with 
that  red  hair,"  she  returned.  "Get  out  from  under,  whoever 


LUCILLE    SAVES    THE    HOUSE.  101 

you  are.  I  can't  stand  this  much  longer ;  it  is  getting  too  choky. 
I'm  going  to  drop." 

Bracing  the  rake  against  the  chimney  bottom  for  a  support, 
she  swung  herself  down,  being  caught  in  the  arms  of  a  strange 
young  man  who,  half-choked  and  begrimed  from  head  to  foot 
with  soot,  dragged  her  out  into  the  partially  clear  air  in  the 
kitchen. 

"Help  the  kid  clear  out  this  mess  of  soot  here,"  he  com- 
manded, "while  I  get  something  else.  We've  got  to  knock  that 
soot  out  of  the  top  of  the  house,  or  the  house  will  go  as  sure  as 
thunder.  There  is  no  time  to  waste." 

She  lost  no  time  in  questions.  Who  he  was  she  never 
rhought.  Already  the  roar  of  the  fire  was  bringing  terror  to 
her  heart.  With  the  boy's  help  she  put  the  fireboard  back,  to 
shut  off  the  underdraft.  She  heard  him  raise  a  ladder  against 
the  house.  She  ran  out  in  time  to  hear  his  orders.  He  wanted 
all  the  salt  he  could  get,  and  she  was  to  help  him  haul  up  the 
birches  he  had  found  by  the  woodpile.  For  the  first  time  in 
her  life  the  girl  was  thankful  that  they  burned  green  wood,  as 
she  saw  him  haul  up  a  young  white  birch  tree  after  him  as  he 
made  his  way  like  a  cat  to  the  roof.  After  him  she  went,  with 
another  birch,  and  Kenton  followed  with  another.  A  bag  of 
coarse-grained  salt  from  the  barn,  as  well  as  all  the  table  salt  in 
the  house,  he  threw  down  the  chimney;  then  the  three  of  them, 
each  with  a  birch,  began  pushing  the  burning  soot  down  the 
wide  maw  of  the  big  chimney,  with  the  high  wind  swirling 
around  them,  and  driving  the  big  gusts  of  black  smoke  first 
one  way  and  then  another,  sometimes  nearly  strangling  them 
with  its  foul  breath;  but  they  persevered,  for  they  were  getting 
the  better  of  the  fire.  Cake  after  cake  of  the  clinging  soot  fell 
down  against  the  old  stones  at  the  bottom.  The  green  branches 
of  the  birches  tore  the  accumulation  of  the  years  from  the 
hollows  in  the  stones,  and  the  soot  that  was  burning  when 
loosened  was  smothered  by  the  soot  that  had  not  yet  caught  fire. 

Grandpa,  Manning  and  Joe  Green,  coming  one  way  from  the 
auction,  and  Nell  and  the  children  the  other  way  from  the  train, 


102  HELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

saw  the  same  sight  as  they  came  in  sight  of  the  house;  Lucille, 
with  her  two  helpers  on  the  ridgepole  of  the  house  poking  down 
into  the  depths  of  the  chimney,  and  each  so  smoke-begrimed  and 
sooty  as  to  be  scarcely  recognizable. 

After  the  excitement  was  over  and  the  three  had  descended 
to  the  ground,  the  young  man  introduced  himself  as  the  doctor's 
son,  Norval  Dixson.  He  had  been  driving  by,  and  stopped  to  the 
rescue  of  the  house.  He  laughed  at  Nell's  thanks  and  Grandpa's 
gratitude,  and  made  light  of  the  fact  that  he  had  ruined  his 
clothes;  said  that  he  would  not  have  missed  the  experience  for 
the  world,  and  declared  that  the  Topsy  in  the  chimney  was  the 
pluckiest  sight  he  had  ever  seen,  and  after  he  had  made  himself 
presentable,  with  the  aid  of  hot  water,  soap  and  brushes,  he 
lingered  awhile  waiting  for  the  girl  to  appear.  But  safely  hidden 
in  her  room,  there  Lucille  stayed  until  he  had  driven  away.  It 
was  bad  enough  to  be  called  Topsy,  without  further  acquaintance 
that  day,  she  declared  to  Nell,  who  wondered  at  her  precipitate 
flight  as  soon  as  all  danger  was  over.  The  old  home  had  been 
saved  by  her  prompt  action  and  his  assistance.  Joe  Green  stayed 
till  all  the  soot  had  been  cleared  away  and  the  heated  stones  of 
the  chimney  had  begun  to  cool.  Then  he  sat  down  for  a  feast 
on  one  of  the  pies  that  had  been  baked  that  morning. 

"There  ain't  no  use  in  bein'  excited  now,  Miss  Nell,"  he  said ; 
''you  act  just  as  flurried  as  ef  the  old  thing  was  a  bilin'  hot  now. 
The  chimney  is  jest  as  clean  now  as  anything.  But  there  is  no 
knowing  what  would  have  happened  ef  Lucille  hadn't  acted  so 
quick  and  ef  that  there  Norval  Dixson  hadn't  happened  jest  then. 
The  old  woman  says  that  things  don't  happen;  it  is  all  planned 
long  ago,  and  of  course  has  to  come  that  way ;  but  I  don't  believe 
thet  she  believes  that  way  allus.  Now  when  I've  took  a  drink 
of  cider  or  suthin'  like  that  she  sez,  sez  she,  that  there  ain't  no 
sense  in  my  doin'  it.  When  I  try  to  tell  her  that  it  was  all 
planned  that  I  should,  accordin'  to  her  way  o'  thinkin'  and  that  I 
natchelly  hev'  to  dew  what  it  was  planned  I  should  do,  she  gets 
mad.  There  ain't  no  reason  in  wimmen  nohow.  Now  ef  I 
made  a  hog  of  myself  and  drinked  a  gallon  or  so  at  a  time  of 


LUCILLE    SAVES    THE    HOUSE.  103 

hard  cider  or  suthin'  else  she  might  talk,  but  as  long  as  I  only 
take  a  half  dozen  glasses  or  so,  there  ain't  no  sense  ov  her  kickin' 
about  little  things  like  that." 

"I'm  not  excited  now,"  said  Nell;  "that  is,  not  much.  I  am 
only  thinking  how  grateful  we  all  are  to  Lucille's  prompt  action 
and  that  young  man's  help.  If  it  had  not  been  for  him  the 
house  would  have  burned  down  in  all  this  wind." 

"It  would,"  said  Joe.  "Nothin'  could  ha'  stopped  it  ef  it 
had  oncet  set  the  woodwork  afire.  Lucky  that  Norval  got  up 
there  with  his  distinguisher.  Have  allers  heard  that  there  wan't 
nothin'  that  could  distinguish  a  fire  like  salt.  When  I  tell 
my  old  woman  about  it  she'll  git  anuther  neat  streak,  and  they 
air  thicker  now  than  fleas  on  a  dawg.  The  only  thing  on  the 
hull  premises  that  she  haint  scrubbed  is  the  inside  of  the  chimney, 
and  I'll  bet  a  cookie  that  she'll  tie  a  rope  to  herself  and  hitch 
the  t'other  end  to  suthin'  fer  me  to  hold  onto,  so  as  to  haul  her  up 
and  down,  and  that  she  will  begin  scrubbin'  the  inside  on  it  ter- 
morrer.  I  used  ter  say  that  when  I  got  married  I'd  rule  or  know 
why,  and  I  found  out.  Women  rule  here  at  this  house  all  right, 
Miss  Nell,  and  whenever  I  go  home  my  old  rooster  begins  to 
crow  'So  they  doo-oo  everywhere,' "  he  crowed  hoarsely.  Then 
he  continued : 

"I  never  had  much  notion  for  the  agricultural  college.  It 
looked  ter  me  like  a  waste  uv  good  money  fer  the  State  ter 
teach  a  lot  uv  young  fellers  how  to  plant  beans  and  hoe  taters; 
how  to  milk  cows  and  hatch  eggs.  Jest  like  the  Normal  skule, 
of  no  good  to  nobody  but  the  folks  that  get  paid  fer  teachin'  non- 
sense. It  allers  seems  ter  me  that  if  it  had  been  the  right  way 
to  git  the  cream  fust  thing  outen  the  milk  that  cows  would  ha' 
b'en  made  that  way.  Two  of  the  teats  would  ha'  give  down 
cream  and  the  rest  skim-milk.  Separators  are  plumb  again  the 
natchul  order  uv  things,  and  so  air  incubators.  Guess  all  the  hen 
skules  in  the  world  can't  teach  an  old  hen  nothin'.  She  knows 
the  best  way  to  hatch  eggs,  and  it  is  that  kind  of  nonsense  that 
young  Dixson  is  studyin'  at  the  Aggie.  His  dad  is  a  spendin' 
good  money  in  sendin'  him  thar,  when  he  could  take  an  old 


104  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

barrel  and  an  old  hen  and  larn  it  all  and  a  heap  more  to  hum. 
When  he  gits  through  he's  goin'  to  git  a  big  job  in  a  hencoop 
somewhar.  In  my  mind  that  skule  is  jest  like  a  separator.  It 
takes  the  young  men,  runs  'em  through  as  the  milk  does,  and  a 
mighty  small  share  of  learnin'  comes  out  of  one  spout  and  heap 
of  conceit  outen  the  other."  He  pushed  his  chair  back  from 
the  table  and  got  up.  "The  old  woman  will  be  sendin'  little  Joe 
atter  me,"  he  said  dismally.  "I  told  her  I'd  be  hum  frum  the 
awkshun  long  ago.  She'll  say  that  I've  been  talkin'  all  this 
time,  but  that  ain't  so,  fer  there  ain't  many  men  that  kin  talk 
less  and  say  more'n  I  kin  in  the  same  length  uv  time." 


CHAPTER   X.  ; 

THE   GOLDEN    FLEECE. 

Both  Nell  and  Grandpa  were  eager  for  the  Spring  to  open, 
so  that  they  could  begin  their  second  season's  work.  He  had 
spent  the  Winter  in  his  study,  doing  no  manual  labor  excepting 
the  cutting  of  the  daily  woodpile;  for  they  had  not  reached  the 
state  of  prosperity  where  they  could  afford  to  hire  having  it  cut 
and  hauled  from  the  woods  to  the  door,  and  then  sawed  into  stove 
length  by  Pierre  Benoit's  portable  gasoline  engine.  Instead 
the  old  man  cut  and  hauled  it  himself  from  the  hillside,  with 
Manning's  help.  The  green  wood  was  the  trial  of  Lucille's  life. 
The  chip-dirt  constantly  scattered  whenever  wood  was  put  in  the 
stove,  the  slow  drying  of  wood  all  the  time  in  the  oven  when  it 
was  empty,  the  stifling  smell  which  permeated  every  room  as  the 
wood  steamed  from  the  heat,  and  the  oozing  out  of  the  moisture 
when  it  was  in  the  firebox,  tried  her  not  very  patient  soul  almost 
beyond  endurance.  At  such  times  she  would  turn  on  Nell  and 
declare  it  was  all  her  fault,  because  she  had  never  insisted  that 
they  must  have  dry  wood  like  other  people.  "You  have  always 
picked  up  old  trash  and  got  along  for  the  sake  of  saving  the 
men's  time,"  she  declared,  "and  of  course  you  always  will  have 
to  put  up  with  any  old  thing  to  burn.  I  declare,  if  I  knew  a 
decent  man  that  wanted  to  marry  me  I'd  have  him  if  he  would 
provide  a  woodpile."  This  was  several  weeks  later  than  the 
fire  episode,  and  Manning  dryly  remarked  that  he  did  not  doubt 
but  that  Norval  Dixson  would  provide  one  when  he  was  married. 

Lucille  flushed  angrily.  "I  wish  Nell  would  make  you  keep 
still  about  him.  Ever  since  the  day  of  the  fire  you  have  talked 
him  all  the  time.  I  wish  you  would  find  something  more  inter- 
esting." 

"Do  you  really?  Well,  how  do  you  like  this  little  poem?" 
He  retreated  to  a  safe  distance  and  began : 

"  'My  name  is  Norval ;  on  the  Winthrop  hills  I  feed  my  feath- 
ered flock.'  That  sounds  better  than  the  original  Grampian  hills, 
doesn't  it,  sis?"  he  teased. 


106  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

Nell  came  to  the  rescue.  She  had  her  own  opinion  about 
the  probable  reason  the  doctor's  son  had  for  the  frequent  calls 
he  made  at  the  farmhouse,  but  she  did  not  care  to  have  Manning 
tormenting  the  girl  all  the  time  about  him.  Lucille's  opinion  of 
young  men  was  changing,  and  Nell  preferred  to  let  her  do  her 
own  thinking  about  them;  but  the  boy  delighted  in  proffering 
unasked  advice. 

It  was  a  backward  season,  but  every  day  that  the  weather 
permitted  Nell  and  Grandpa  were  at  work.  During  the  Winter 
she  had  so  carefully  mapped  out  mentally  her  work,  profiting  by 
what  she  read  and  the  near-advice  which  Searls  had  given,  that 
her  progress  continued  without  a  hitch.  Her  plowing  was  done 
and  the  oats  and  potatoes  were  in  before  many  of  the  farmers 
were  well  under  way.  Her  onions,  cabbage  and  tomatoes  had 
been  started  under  glass — Grandpa's  work,  and  their  garden  was 
smiling  long  before  another  one  in  the  neighborhood  was  more 
than  peeping  from  the  ground. 

"Getting  things  started  for  the  frost,"  said  Joe  Green.  "I've 
seen  lots  of  sech  things  done  afore.  Your  fine  things  will  all 
be  killed  by  the  May  and  June  frosts.  It  don't  pay  to  hurry 
Nater." 

"I  guess  not,"  Nell  answered,  "not  as  long  as  I  have  a  ton 
or  so  of  old  newspapers  suffering  to  be  used  as  blankets."  But 
before  June  was  an  established  fact  she  began  to  fear  that  his 
prophecy  would  come  true.  There  were  nights  when  the  mer- 
cury sank  so  low  in  the  glass,  that  despite  the  heavy  paper 
blankets  with  which  she  covered  the  green  things  and  her  straw- 
berry beds,  and  the  pails  of  water  deposited  near  the  plants, 
that  she  was  obliged,  with  the  help  of  Grandpa  and  Manning,  to 
keep  fires  burning  all  night  to  ward  off  the  effects  of  the  frost. 

"It  isn't  so  much  the  heat,"  Grandpa  explained,  "but  the  fire 
will  set  the  air  in  motion,  and  the  frost  will  not  settle  if  there 
is  a  wind."  And  so,  while  all  of  the  other  farms  on  the  Flats 
were  nipped  by  the  frost,  the  Beverly  farm  escaped,  and  Nell  felt 
justified  in  crowing  a  little  to  Searls  about  their  good  manage- 
ment. 


THE    GOLDEN    FLEECE.  .      107 

Joe  Green  saved  her  the  trouble  of  telling  it  around  the 
neighborhood.  He  felt  a  sort  of  personal  pride  in  her  achieve- 
ment, though  why  he  did,  it  was  doubtful  if  he  could  have  told 
himself.  He  went  to  Searls  with  the  story,  relating  that  the 
Old  Man  Beverly  had  learnt  all  his  good  points  from  the  Romans 
up  in  York  State.  "You  know  he  used  to  teach  in  some  of  them 
colleges  up  that  way,  and  he  tells  me  a  lot  about  what 
the  Roman  fellers  did;  there  was  a  Sabine  field  where  one  of 
their  great  men,  by  the  name  of  'Kate-oh,'  did  the  plowing,  and 
he  told  me  a  rhyme  about  a  sacred  plow  which  the  kings  used. 
And  up  thar  somewhere  around  Rome  in  the  Greasy  country 
they  thought  a  lot  about  the  plow,  too.  There  was  one  feller 
that  after  he  had  been  king,  or  emperor,  or  suthin',  went  back 
to  raisin'  cabbages.  And  that  is  why  Nell  takes  so  natchelly  to 
the  work ;  she  says  that  the  Dutch  say  'the  sile  is  Nater  and  Nater 
is  the  sile.'  I  never  did  see  that  larnin'  was  necessary  fer  farmin,' 
but  Old  Man  Beverly  did  get  some  good  pints  from  the  Romans 
in  York  State." 

The  strawberries  ripened,  were  gathered  and  transferred  as 
credit  on  the  many  bills.  Miss  Barry  claimed  the  lion's  share 
of  them,  and  fifteen  dollars  were  thus  paid.  The  wool  was 
sheafed,  and  that  paid  the  taxes.  The  lambs  were  not  a  startling 
profit  that  year.  Days  of  very  cold  weather  fell  due  the  week 
the  majority  of  the  lambs  entered  the  world,  and  despite  her  best 
care  Nell  lost  several  promising  ones;  then  early  in  the  Spring, 
soon  after  the  sheep  were  turned  out,  the  dogs  got  in  the  flock, 
and  ten,  including  ewes  and  lambs,  fell  victims.  After  much 
haggling  by  two  of  the  selectmen  against  Searls,  Nell  was  paid 
a  price  within  a  quarter  of  their  value.  So  the  profit  from  her 
lambs  were  many  dollars  less  than  she  had  anticipated. 

Most  of  her  crops  were  excellent,  but  the  blight  struck  the 
potatoes;  nevertheless  when  the  Fall  had  come  and  the  last  bit 
of  produce  had  been  garnered  and  accounted  for,  she  was  greatly 
encouraged.  The  doctor's  son  had  advised  Lucille  to  take  up 
poultry,  and  she  had  done  well  with  her  incubator  and  brooder 
work,  but  the  foxes  had  carried  off  several  of  her  chickens; 


108  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

the  hawks  had  also  helped  themselves,  but  after  all  she  was 
beginning  to  make  the  eggs  pay  most  of  the  grocery  bill,  though 
Miss  Barry  insisted  on  two  dozen  every  week  against  the  bill, 
and  more  if  she  could  get  them. 

Bob  was  in  the  Philippines  then.  He  had  secured  a  position 
as  secretary  to  some  politician,  and  was  having  a  snap  of  it, 
traveling  with  but  little  to  do.  Occasionally  he  sent  home  money. 
He  realized  that  they  must  need  shoes  all  around  again,  and 
possibly  new  clothes.  His  check  was  an  immense  help,  and  Nell 
promptly  forgave  him  for  his  past  neglect,  and  hoped  he  would 
send  another,  but  it  failed  to  come  immediately.  At  last  he 
sent  Lucille  money  to  continue  her  music,  and  a  five  dollar  bill 
to  each  of  the  other  children.  He  was  planning  to  return  home 
at  New  Year's;  he  had  a  plan  whereby  they  would  all  get  rich 
immediately. 

Manning  entered  the  high  school  that  Fall.  He  would  not 
be  thirteen  till  the  Spring,  but  he  was  capable  of  the  work.  It 
entailed  another  heavy  burden  on  Nell,  for  he  must  be  clothed 
like  the  rest  of  the  boys.  She  could  manage  Madaline's  clothes 
better;  for  the  girl,  all  legs  and  arms,  like  most  fourteen-year- 
olds,  could  be  partly  clothed  with  made-overs  of  her's  and 
Lucille's,  rejuvenated  by  skilful  fingers  and  home  dyes.  But 
Grandpa's  clothes  could  hardly  be  cut  over  for  the  boy.  Manning 
solved  his  own  clothes  problem  unbeknown  to  Nell.  He  wrote 
Bob  a  straight  letter,  in  the  care  of  the  politician,  asking  for 
clothes.  The  man,  thinking  it  was  his  letter,  read  it,  and  passed 
it  on  to  Bob,  with  the  remark  that  there  was  a  young  chap  that 
meant  business,  adding  that  he  would  give  him  a  check  for 
twenty-five  to  send  immediately. 

Bob  did  not  want  to  spare  it.  Manning  was  always  a  saucy 
little  beggar  anyway,  he  thought,  but  he  had  no  alternative.  He 
wrote  a  rather  grumbling  letter  about  not  being  made  of  money, 
but  he  sent  the  check.  It  came  Thanksgiving  Day.  Manning 
had  kept  his  own  counsel,  so  he  was  the  only  one  not  surprised. 
"When  I  want  anything  I  believe  in  going  after  it,"  he  com- 
mented wisely, 


THE    GOLDEN    FLEECE.  109 

One  stormy  day  in  the  Christmas  holidays,  when  Lucille  was 
struggling  with  her  everlasting  problem  of  green  wood,  she 
announced  desperately  that  she  would  marry  the  first  man  that 
asked  her,  if  he  had  a  woodpile,  just  to  see  how  it  would  seem  to 
burn  wood  that  was  dry  before  she  died. 

"Do  you  suppose  that  you  will  find  out  afterwards?"  asked 
Manning  dryly.  "I  think,"  he  added  soberly,  "that  Norval  Dix- 
son  has  a  woodpile.  Shall  I  speak  to  him  about  you?" 

"If  you  do,"  flamed  the  girl.  "Nell,  I  wish  you  would  send 
that  boy  out  of  doors.  He  has  done  nothing  but  whittle  and 
litter  up  the  east  entry  and  tease  me  about  Norval  Dixson.  I 
hate  boys  anyway." 

"Where  shall  I  send  him  in  this  storm,  Lucille?  As  it  hap- 
pens, the  boys  have  as  much  right  in  the  house  as  the  girls," 
said  Nell  quietly,  turning  from  the  sewing  machine  in  Bob's 
room,  where  she  was  industriously  stitching. 

"He  might  go  into  the  shop,  I  should  think.  How  I  do  hate 
stormy  Saturdays  and  vacation,  when  the  boys  have  to  be  around 
the  house.  They  don't  do  a  thing  but  litter,  and  you  let  them 
do  it,"  declared  the  girl  impatiently.  "I  can't  walk  across  the 
kitchen,  because  Kenton  has  got  his  double-runner  sled  stretched 
across  it,  and  is  conjuring  up  a  sail  for  it;  and  I  can't  come  in 
where  you  are,  because  Carlos  is  making  a  harness  for  the  dog 
and  takes  up  all  the  room." 

"What  is  to  hinder  you  from  going  in  the  sitting-room,  sis?" 
asked  Manning  coolly.  "This  east  entry  is  my  automobile  shop, 
and  I'm  going  to  use  it.  Nell  said  I  could.  I  don't  want  your 
old  neat  room  anyway." 

"It  is  lonesome  in  there  without  Nell.  Besides,  it  is  cold, 
as  there  isn't  wood  enough  to  last  through  this  storm  if  we  keep 
two  fires  going.  Such  a  sight  as  this  house  is,"  and  she  stepped 
gingerly  around  Kenton's  sled,  picked  her  way  among  Manning's 
tools  and  got  tangled  up  in  Carlos'  straps  as  she  stumbled  over 
the  dog,  sprawled  contentedly  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  With 
a  quick  movement  she  sent  her  young  brother  and  the  dog  out 
of  her  way  and  threw  herself  disgustedly  in  the  rocking  chair. 


110  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

"Lucille  has  no  business  to  be  so  fresh  with  me,"  cried  the 
boy  angrily.  "I  will  stay  in  this  room  with  Nell,  so  there;  she 
said  I  could.  You  just  wait  till  I  am  fourteen,  Lucille  Beverly, 
and  then  you  won't  get  so  gay.  I'll  knock  you  around  then, 
myself." 

"Then  you  will  be  too  much  of  a  gentleman  to  do  such  a 
thing,"  said  Nell.  "And  you  can  begin  being  a  gentleman  now 
by  not  taking  up  so  much  room." 

The  boy's  face  fell.  "There  is  no  show  for  a  boy  anyway," 
he  muttered  resignedly. 

Lucille  continued  her  chapter  of  discouragements.  "I  have 
not  been  able  to  get  Madaline  to  help  do  a  thing  to-day.  First 
she  had  to  get  her  lessons,  and  since  then  she  has  been  up  in  the 
study  with  Grandpa  getting  him  to  help  her  with  Greek.  I 
should  think  she  would  know  that  there  is  some  work  to  be 
done  in  this  house.  I've  just  slaved  all  day  and  so  have  you." 

"Madaline  will  learn  some  time  that  there  is  something  to 
be  done  besides  studying,"  Nell  answered.  "I  used  to  have  just 
such  a  passion  for  learning;  so  did  mother,  and  so  did  Grandpa. 
We  both  have  it  now,  but  we  have  learned  to  put  it  aside.  I 
shall  fit  her  to  be  a  teacher,  where  she  can  gratify  her  natural 
taste.  Some  time,  when  she  realizes  the  necessity,  she  will  take 
up  practical  work  and  will  succeed.  There  is  no  use  to  scold 
her  or  nag  her;  just  let  her  alone.  She  has  that  trend  in  her 
nature,  the  same  as  Bob  has  the  wanderlust,  and  the  same  as 
you  have  housework  and  music." 

"And  I  have  machinery,  and  Carlos  animal-training,  and  Ken- 
ton  doctoring,"  chimed  in  Manning.  "Whenever  I  want  Kenton 
to  help  me  invent,  he  says  he  wants  to  play  doctor  and  dose  me 
with  some  weed  he  has  steeped,  or  else  he  wants  to  pretend  I've 
broken  my  leg  and  do  it  up  in  splints,  or  make-believe  saw  off 
my  arm.  It  is  no  fun  to  play  with  him." 

"I've  been  thinking  that  when  I  am  a  man  and  a  doctor  I  will 
have  a  sail  put  on  my  carriage  or  sleigh  and  then  I  could  get 
to  see  my  patients  sooner ;  couldn't  I,  Nell  ?"  interrupted  Kenton. 

<rl  think  Bob  will  have  to  help  some  if  these  boys  ever  realize 


THE    GOLDEN    FLEECE.  Ill 

their  ambitions,"  remarked  Lucille.  "I  don't  see  where  all  the 
money  is  coming  from.  You  can  never  make  it  on  a  farm." 

"There,  you  talk  just  like  Bob.  He  says  that  the  farm  is 
slow  starvation;  that  all  anyone  can  get  out  of  it  is  a  living,  that 
is,  here  in  New  England.  In  the  South  or  West  or  anywhere 
but  right  here,  farming  can  be  made  to  succeed.  But  I  say  that 
farming  can  be  made  to  pay,  and  if  I  live  I  am  going  to  do  it. 
Why,  Lucille,  in  spite  of  everything,  these  last  two  years  we  got 
ahead  some.  We  paid  out  a  lot  of  money  in  debts,  and  did  not 
run  one  cent  behind,  and  this  year  I  hope  to  do  a  great  deal 
better.  If  Bob  only  felt  as  I  do  about  such  things,  as  capable 
as  he  is  about  earning  money,  we  could  square  ourselves  with 
the  world  in  no  time.  But  Bob  is  Bob,  and  that  is  all  there  is 
to  it,"  she  added  dolefully. 

"What  is  the  wanderlust?"  asked  Madaline  from  the  door. 
"I  wish  I  could  get  in  here,  too.  But  the  boys  and  Lucille  art 
everywhere.  Can't  you  move  your  chair  a  little,  Lucille,  so 
I  can  squeeze  through?" 

Her  sister  hitched  her  chair  a  little  ungraciously.  "I  don't 
see  why  every  one  of  you  have  to  come  in  this  room  just  because 
I  am  here.  Kenton  and  Manning  have  had  to  come  too.  I 
wanted  to  be  with  Nell." 

"So  do  I,"  said  the  girl.  "You  need  not  flatter  yourself,  my 
lady,  that  we  are  here  on  your  account.  You  are  altogether  too 
bossy."  She  curled  herself  up  on  the  foot  of  the  bed.  "What 
is  the  wanderlust?"  she  repeated. 

"It  is  a  passion  for  wandering.  Bob  inherited  it,  and  there- 
fore he  is  not  to  be  blamed.  Mother  used  to  talk  with  me  about 
it.  It  is  a  strain  in  the  Beverly  blood.  In  every  generation 
there  has  been  one  who  had  it,  though  not  always  in  the  same 
degree.  Father  was  that  way,  mother  said.  From  a  boy  he 
was  always  traveling.  After  he  and  mother  were  married  he 
settled  down  contentedly  until  Bob  was  about  a  year  old ;  then  he 
became  so  uneasy  that  mother  told  him  to  go  West  if  he  thought 
best.  He  did  not  believe  in  the  farm  then.  He  said,  as  Bob  says, 
that  it  is  no  place  for  a  young  fellow  with  brains 


112  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

and  gumption.  It  will  do  for  the  old  country  folks, 
but  not  for  young  Americans.  Father  wanted  to  move 
to  the  Far  West.  He  was  sure  he  could  strike  a  mining  claim, 
or  invest  in  land  in  California  or  something  great.  He  was 
gone  there  about  two  years,  but  he  sent  money  home  regularly. 
He  came  back  homesick,  but  in  a  year  he  wanted  to  go  South. 
That  was  the  land  of  opportunities,  so  mother  did  not  object.  He 
spent  about  three  years  traveling  then,  as  a  civil  engineer,  and 
earned  a  good  salary;  but  he  found  nothing  after  all  as  good  as 
home.  Then  he  came  back  for  good,  cured  of  all  desire  for 
traveling.  If  mother  had  lived  she  would  have  made  this  farm 
as  successful  as  it  was  when  Grandpa  was  young.  So  you  see, 
I  do  not  blame  Bob  for  the  wanderlust.  He  cannot  help  it. 
He  will  get  tired  searching  for  the  golden  fleece  after  awhile, 
and  will  discover  that  it  is  here  in  West  Winthrop  on  this  farm 
if  he  will  look  for  it." 

"I  know  the  Golden  Fleece  story,"  exclaimed  Madaline 
eagerly.  "Jason  started  after  it,  but  at  last  he  was  told  he  had 
got  to  plow  a  field  first  with  two  bulls  that  breathed  fire  and 
burnt  up  everything,  and  they  had  brass  feet.  Everybody  was 
afraid,  but  he  wasn't;  he  was  gentle  with  them  and  made  them 
plow  the  field.  Then  he  sowed  the  dragon's  teeth  and  a  lot 
of  armed  men  jumped  out  of  them  when  they  sprouted;  and 
these  men  started  to  fight  Jason ;  but  he  fought  back,  and  finally 
threw  a  stone  right  at  them,  and  then  each  dragon-tooth  man 
thought  the  other  dragon-tooth  man  had  thrown  the  stone,  and 
they  commenced  to  fight  each  other  until  they  were  all  dead. 
And  then  Jason  went  to  the  rock  where  the  big  round-eyed 
dragon  stood  over  the  Golden  Fleece.  He  sprinkled  some 
chloroform  over  him  and  went  to  sleep.  Then  Jason  took  the 
fleece  and  went  home  with  it." 

"What  did  he  do  with  it  ?"questioned  Carlos  in  round-eyed 
wonder,  "and  was  it  all  gold,  and  did.it  grow  first  on  a  sheep's 
back?" 

"I  guess  he  used  it  as  a  bed  quilt,  or  perhaps  he  sold  it  and 
bought  an  automobile,"  said  Madaline  complacently.  "It  grew 


THE    GOLDEN    FLEECE.  113 

on  the  back  of  a  big  ram,  which  could  fly.  This  ram  was  owned 
by  a  good  queen  in  Thessaly,  who  had  two  children.  Finally  her 
husband  got  in  love  with  some  other  princess  and  sent  this  good 
Queen  Nephele  away.  She  was  afraid  the  new  queen  would 
not  be  good  to  her  boy  and  girl,  so  she  put  the  two  children 
on  the  back  of  this  ram  and  told  him  to  fly  to  another  country. 
He  went  right  up  in  the  air  like  a  flying  machine,  but  as  he  was 
crossing  the  strait  between  Europe  and  Asia  the  little  girl  fell 
off  and  was  drowned.  Her  name  was  Hel-le;  so  they  called 
the  strait  Hellespont.  I'll  show  it  to  you  on  the  map.  The  boy's 
name  was  Phyrxus,  and  when  the  ram  had  reached  the  new 
country  and  set  him  down  safe  on  the  ground  with  a  good  king, 
he  went  to  work  and  killed  the  good  ram  as  a  sacrifice  to  his 
god,  Jupiter.  Then  he  gave  the  fleece  to  the  king,  who  put 
it  in  the  care  of  a  dragon.  And  then  Jason  stole  it,"  she  added 
impressively. 

"The  poor  ram,  to  have  to  be  killed  when  he  saved  Phyrxus' 
life,"  said  Carlos  sympathetically.  "He  must  have  been  an  awful 
hard-hearted  boy.  He  ought  to  have  put  the  ram  in  a  nice 
pasture  and  given  him  all  the  nice  things  to  eat.  And  he  must 
have  had  a  mean  old  god  to  want  such  a  sacrifice.  I  would  not 
have  done  it." 

"But  that  was  a  heathen  god,"  explained  Nell.  "Phyrxus 
probably  thought  that  Jupiter  would  translate  the  ram  up  into 
the  sky  if  he  sacrificed  him  out  of  gratitude.  That  is  the  way 
Jupiter  sometimes  did;  he  would  take  good  animals  up  into  the 
sky  and  put  them  among  the  stars." 

"Perhaps  the  ram  got  ugly,"  suggested  Lucille.  "You  know 
the  rams  do  get  so  ugly  we  can't  keep  them ;  then,  of  course,  he 
would  have  to  be  killed." 

"We  don't  kill  them,"  declared  the  child  stoutly.  "Nell 
always  finds  a  man  who  wants  them  in  his  flock  of  sheep  to  fight 
the  dogs.  That's  where  Buster  and  Bruiser  and  Jim  and  the 
rest  of  the  lambs  went  last  year;  and  that's  where  they  will  go 
this  year,  won't  they?"  He  pushed  up  to  Nell's  chair,  his  round 
face  blanching  with  sudden  fear. 


114  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

"Of  course  I  will,"  said  Nell  gently.  "We  will  try  to  find 
good  homes  for  the  boy-lambs  when  they  get  ugly.  If  they  would 
only  stay  nice  like  the  ewes  we  would  always  keep  them.  I  think, 
myself,  it  was  not  very  nice  for  Phyrxus  to  kill  his  flying  ram. 
We  would  have  always  kept  him  even  if  he  did  get  ugly,  wouldn't 
we,  kiddie?" 

The  child  went  contentedly  back  to  his  play.  "The  end 
thereof  is  death,"  she  said  aside  to  the  girls.  "We  try  our  best 
to  raise  the  little  lambs;  we  bring  them  in  from  the  shed  when 
they  are  half  dead,  and  feed  them  on  warm  milk  when  they  are 
chilled.  Carlos  loves  them  and  trains  them,  but  in  the  end  they 
go  to  the  shambles.  I  do  know  how  long  we  can  keep  him 
from  learning  the  truth.  That  is  why  I  want  to  get  out  of 
raising  stock  for  the  market.  I  cannot  bear  to  have  the  young 
things  killed,  but  I  would  not  feel  that  way  about  the  fruit. 
You  say  the  farm  won't  pay,  Lucille.  Sometimes  I  think  I  ought 
to  have  used  that  hundred  dollars  in  paying  up  bills,  but  then 
again  I  think  with  Searls  and  Grandpa  that  I  must  build  for  the 
future  of  you  children.  In  three  or  four  years  I  shall  begin  to 
get  good  returns,  when  you  will  all  need  it  so  much.  I  wish 
I  could  send  you  to  the  Boston  Conservatory.  Dallas  says  with 
proper  training  you  would  excel  anyone  around  here  in  music. 
Madaline  must  be  educated,  or  she  will  waste  her  life.  That 
is  tlie  same  with  the  boys.  I  am  determined  that  they  shall  have 
college  educations,  and  it  must  all  come  out  of  the  farm.  Searls 
says  that  with  the  peaches,  apples  and  small  fruits,  and  the  berries; 
I  ought  to  realize  a  thousand  a  year;  think  of  it,  Lucille  and 
Madaline.  Besides  it  will  teach  the  boys  to  love  the  farm  and 
the  country.  I  don't  want  them  to  grow  up  with  the  same  idea 
that  Bob  has  always  had,  that  the  farm  was  no  place  for  brains. 
I  think  it  requires  a  very  high  order  of  brains  to  make  a  farm 
pay.  One  must  understand  so  many  things ;  soil,  seasons,  differ- 
ent crops,  and  how  to  fight  the  thousand  and  one  enemies  which 
destroy  a  farmer's  work.  You  know  what  the  German  proverb 
is :  'The  soil  is  Nature,  and  Nature  is  the  soil.'  It  is  something 
like  that  anyway.  I  like  the  work,  and  I  do  not  consider  it  any 


THE    GOLDEN    FLEECE.  115 

disgrace  to  me  or  to  the  mighty  name  of  Beverly  because  I  can 
do  such  work.  I  have  learned  to  guide  a  plow  straight,  and  have 
had  as  much  fun  out  of  it  as  if  I  had  driven  a  ball  clear  around 
a  ten-acre  lot  instead  of  the  plow.  Of  course  it  is  hard  work, 
but  everything  that  is  worth  while  is  work,  and  now  that  I  have 
put  my  hand  to  the  plow  I  am  not  going  to  look  back.  No, 
children,  I  shall  find  my  Golden  Fleece  right  on  this  farm,  and 
it  will  not  be  stolen  property,  but  my  very  own." 

"Bob's  name  is  Robert  Jason,  and  I  think  he  ought  to  learn 
a  lesson  from  the  Golden  Fleece,"  cried  Madaline.  "Jason  had 
to  plow,  and  Bob  must  come  right  here  and  go  to  plowing  with 
Diatonic  and  Chromatic  and " 

"They  are  not  bulls;  they're  my  steers,  and  I  broke  them  to 
lead  and  to  the  yoke,  and  Bob  isn't  going  to  plow  with  them," 
interrupted  Carlos  quickly. 

"Such  names  for  steers,"  laughed  Nell.  "It  will  be  some 
time,  my  boy,  before  they  will  be  large  enough  to  do  much  work. 
Bob  would  have  a  fit  over  their  names.  He  would  call  it  Normal 
nonsense." 

"He  could  shorten  them  to  Di  and  Giro,"  continued  Madaline. 
"Then  he  could  plant  his  wild  oats,  which  would  be  the  dragon's 
teeth,  and  he  could  throw  a  stone,  that's  settling  down,  at  them, 
and  destroy  them.  After  that  he  could  go  to  work  in  earnest, 
and  find  his  Golden  Fleece  right  here,  and  not  steal  yours.  I 
shall  tell  him  so  when  he  comes  back." 

"Bob  won't  steal.  With  all  his  faults  he  would  not  do  that. 
As  he  says,  he  is  not  half  bad.  I  sometimes  think  that  if  I  had 
been  more  patient  with  him,  when  he  was  like  Manning  here, 
and  so  on  while  he  was  growing  up,  I  might  have  had  more  influ- 
ence over  him.  But  I  was  like  you,  Lucille.  I  wanted  every- 
thing kept  immaculate,  and  Bob  was  always  careless  and  restless. 
After  mother  went  away,  I  was  always  glad  when  he  was  out  of 
the  house ;  for  he  was  so  noisy  and  uneasy.  I  had  my  hands  full 
with  you  little  children,  and  I  never  thought  that  he  needed 
looking  after.  Of  course  father  could  control  him.  But  after, 
he  was  gone  I  found  that  Bob  had  outgrown  me,  I  know  how 


116  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

shocked  I  was  when  I  found  that  he  was  going  to  Joe  Green's 
and  other  places  and  getting  hard  cider.  I  just  could  not  believe 
it.  He  said  he  was  not  doing  anything  wrong,  as  Grandpa  had 
always  kept  a  cider  barrel,  and  he  had  learned  to  like  it  at  home. 
And  then  Grandpa  stopped  putting  cider  in  the  cellar,  but  it 
was  too  late;  Bob's  taste  had  been  formed,  and  formed  at  home. 
And  I  said  then,  and  so  did  Grandpa,  that  never  while  either  of 
us  lived,  would  we  put  anything  in  our  cellar  which  would  be 
a  lure  to  our  little  men.  The  fruit  which  God  has  given  us  and 
this  place  will  never  be  put  to  a  use  whereby  it  may  ruin  a  boy's 
life." 

"Who  wants  cider?"  said  Manning  loftily.  "It  is  nothing 
but  rotten  apples  and  worm  juice.  I  know  it  is,  for  I  saw  the 
apples  that  Joe  Green  took  to  the  mill.  It  is  no  wonder  that  he 
looks  like  a  big  worm,  considering  what  he  drinks." 

"But  he  gets  it  at  Searls  Jackson's,"  said  Kenton.  "Little 
Joe  told  me  that  his  ma  did  not  like  to  have  his  pa  work  there, 
cause  Searls  always  let  him  go  into  the  cellar  and  help  himself  to 
cider.  What  makes  Searls  do  that,  Nell?  He  does  not  drink 
himself,  does  he?" 

"No,"  Nell  answered  slowly.  She  did  not  like  to  speak  of 
that  to  the  children.  It  was  the  one  subject  on  which  they  failed 
to  agree,  she  and  Searls.  He  always  made  cider  and  kept  it  in 
his  cellar ;  his  father  had  done  so,  and  his  grandfather ;  he  would 
do  so,  and  his  children  after  him  if  he  had  them.  He  would 
deny  no  one  the  right  to  help  himself  to  a  jug  of  it;  it  was  a 
product  of  the  farm  as  much  as  was  water,  and  therefore  free. 
He  did  not  drink  it  himself;  he  did  not  like  it;  others  liked  it 
and  could  drink  it  for  all  him.  He  regarded  Nell's  obstinacy  in 
not  selling  her  cider  apples  as  her  one  fault.  That  is  where  she 
showed  a  lack  of  good  business  judgment.  He  counted  on  his 
yearly  sale  of  cider  apples  as  one  of  his  assets.  Nell's  not  doing 
so  was  wasteful  foolishness. 

"Searls  does  not  see  this  subject  the  way  I  do,"  she  said  at 
length.  "He  may  some  day,  or  he  may  never.  I  do  not  try  to 
influence  him.  His  principles  and  habits  are  formed.  You 


THE    GOLDEN    FLEECE.  117 

young  boys  are  the  ones  I  am  looking  after,  and  if  my  life  is 
spared  I  shall  stay  by  you  until  I  am  quite  sure  that  you  will  be 
the  men  I  wish  you  to  be.  No  matter  if  you  turn  the  house 
upside  down  on  stormy  days  you  are  not  going  to  be  sent  out- 
doors or  to  the  neighbors  or  any  place  away  from  home  to  find 
amusement.  And  I  do  not  think  Lucille  wants  you  to  go  away 
either." 

"Of  course  I  don't,"  said  the  girl  humbly,  "but  I  do  wish 
they  would  be  a  little  more  particular  in  the  house.  It  is  mighty 
trying  to  have  them  muss  things  up  the  way  they  do,  and  Mada- 
line  never  tries  to  keep  things  clean  a  bit." 

"I  will  put  my  things  away,"  said  Manning.  "Say,  Nell,  I've 
got  a  fine  idea  about  my  automobile.  I  want  to  buy  a  gasoline 
engine,  a  little  one  for  the  power.  It  will  only  cost  about  forty 
dollars.  Norval  Dixson  told  me  about  it.  I'd  fix  that  in  front 
with  a  lot  of  batteries,  and  then  how  I  would  go.  Can  I  have 
it,  Nell?" 

"Just  as  soon  as  there  is  that  much  money  to  spare,  you  shall. 
You  may  try  to  earn  it  yourself  this  Summer.  I  want  you  to 
have  another  row  of  potatoes,  and  I  will  pay  you  for  picking 
berries.  I  want  all  of  you  to  have  your  share  in  the  farm  work 
and  your  profits.  If  all  goes  well  we  will  have  a  telephone  in 
another  year." 

"A  telephone !"  Manning  capered  with  delight.  "Where  are 
you  going  to  put  it?  Up  in  my  room?  I  wish  you  would.  I 
know  how  to  ring  up,  and  I  can  telephone,  too.  Norval  showed 
me  how  last  week  and " 

"Oh,  yes;  you  would  have  to  have  it  upstairs  in  your  room, 
only  I  guess  you  won't,  young  man.  We  will  have  it  right  in 
the  kitchen,  where  I  can  hear  it  every  time  it  rings,  for  I  am  the 
only  one  who  is  always  in  the  house.  How  I  would  like  to  have 
one,"  cried  Lucille. 

"We  all  would,  I  guess,"  said  Manning.  "Norval  says  that 
I  ought  to  be  an  electrician." 

"Seems  to  me  that  you  and  Norval  are  quite  friendly," 
laughed  Nell.  "Young  men  of  twenty  or  so  are  not  apt  to  be 


118  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

very  chummy  with  boys  of  twelve  without  a  reason.  What's  the 
attraction?" 

"It  is  Lucille,"  said  the  boy  wisely.  "I  can  see  a  thing  or  two. 
He  will  talk  to  me  'cause  she  won't  talk  to  him." 

"I  don't  know  what  to  say,"  said  the  girl  flushing,  "but  I  do 
like  to  hear  him  tell  how  to  manage  the  incubator.  I've  been 
thinking  that  I  will  try  to  raise  more  chickens  next  year.  I 
know  I  shall  succeed  better  than  I  did  last  season." 

"And  he  will  be  glad  to  help  you,"  said  Nell.  "He  is  really 
one  of  the  nicest  young  men  I  know.  I  can  talk  to  him  if  you 
can't.  He  will  succeed  if  he  is  anything  like  his  father." 

"And  when  he  comes  I  wish  he  would  tell  me  how  his  father 
saws  off  bones,"  remarked  Kenton.  "How  do  you  suppose  he 
does,  Nell?" 

The  house  shook  in  the  grasp  of  the  storm,  which  was 
assuming  the  proportions  of  a  blizzard.  The  lamps  had  been  lit 
but  a  few  moments  when  a  heavy  object  tumbled  against  the 
sink-room  door,  which  faced  the  road.  In  the  driving  snow 
they  could  not  see  it  distinctly,  but  as  Nell  opened  the  door  the 
piercing  west  wind  stung  her  face  and  forced  her  to  fall  back 
just  as  the  man  outside  collapsed  in  a  heap  and  rolled  into  the 
room.  With  Manning's  help  she  pulled  him  away  from  the 
door  and  shut  and  barred  it  against  the  storm.  She  knew  it  was 
Joe  Green,  and  she  tried  to  help  him  to  rise,  but  as  he  was  too 
stupid  with  drink  to  make  any  effort  to  help  himself,  and  soothed 
by  the  warmth  of  the  room,  he  sprawled  down  on  the  rugs  which 
the  boys  brought  in  drunken  slumber. 

They  swept  and  brushed  the  snow  from  his  clothes  and 
covered  him  warmly.  It  was  all  they  could  do  to  make  him 
comfortable.  He  had  been  to  Winthrop  that  day  they  knew — 
had  managed  to  get  that  far  toward  his  home,  but  could  walk 
no  farther.  He  had  sense  enough  to  make  for  their  light,  and 
that  was  all.  Nell  was  sickened  at  the  sight.  He  was  such  a 
good  friend  to  them  at  heart ;  a  friend  to  everyone  but  himself. 

The  boys  gazed  at  him  in  horror.  The  girls  were  frightened 
and  dared  not  look  at  him.  Finally  Grandpa  suggested  that 


THE    GOLDEN    FLEECE.  119 

someone  go  to  Mrs.  Green  and  tell  her  where  he  was.  She 
would  be  frightened  by  his  absence  and  perhaps  start  out  in  search. 
So  Manning  was  sent. 

When  he  returned  he  told  them  that  the  woman  cried.  "Poor 
Joe,  poor  Joe,  poor  Joe,"  was  what  she  said.  "And  she  said  that 
he  would  not  wake  up  before  morning,  when  she  would  come 
and  fetch  him  home.  And,"  the  boy  added  soberly,  his  round 
face  very  grave,  "I  will  never  do  things  to  make  a  woman  cry 
for  me,  that  way." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE   PRODIGAI/S   RETURN. 

Bob  was  home  again.  He  had  slipped  into  his  old  place  as 
naturally  as  if  he  had  never  been  away.  He  had  secured  a  great 
deal  of  polish  from  his  travels  and  associating  with  gentlemen. 
He  was  tall  and  stylish  looking  and  wore  his  clothes  well.  He 
was  smooth  shaven,  in  contrast  to  the  heavy  black  moustache  he 
had  formerly  delighted  to  twist.  He  did  not  return  with  much 
money,  but  he  did  bring  back  with  him  an  immense  contempt 
for  the  slow  provincials  of  West  Winthrop.  His  plan  for  bet- 
tering the  family  was  to  sell  out  and  move  to  Alaska.  That  was 
the  glorious  land  of  the  future.  Nell  promptly  sat  down  on  him 
so  hard  that  he  neglected  to  mention  the  subject  again.  He 
sulked  over  her  attitude,  but  did  not  speak  of  the  cause.  He 
did  deserve  some  consideration  for  all  that  he  had  done  for  the 
family.  He  had  brought  a  trunk  full  of  mementoes  from  the 
Far  East  for  all  the  family,  including  rare  books  for  Grandpa. 
There  were  lots  of  trinkets,  but  nothing  useful  for  their  every-day 
needs.  He  was  a  hero  to  them  all  for  several  days,  for  he  could 
talk  interestingly;  the  little  boys  followed  him  around  almost 
with  worship,  and  Carlos  forgot  to  train  his  pets,  so  delighted 
was  he  with  Bob. 

Bob  was  glad  to  be  at  home.  He  had  been  away  so  long, 
that  though  he  affected  to  despise  their  plain  ways,  yet  he  felt 
as  if  he  had  had  enough  of  knocking  about  the  world.  It  was 
good,  after  all,  to  be  with  one's  own  kin,  yet  he  did  not  feel 
as  if  he  should  take  hold  and  help  support.  He  was  there  as 
a  visitor,  or  rather,  as  an  honor  to  the  family.  He  talked  of 
traveling  again  in  the  Spring;  for  the  present  he  would  rest  at 
home.  He  was  a  trifle  fagged. 

Nell  was  thoughtfully  looking  out  of  the  sitting-room  win- 
dow one  morning,  seeing  without  giving  it  much  thought,  the 
whiteness  of  the  January  snow  which  covered  the  opposite 
hillside,  out  of  which  rose  serenely  the  bare  chestnut 


THE    PRODIGAL'S    RETURN.  121 

and  walnut  trees,  and  the  green  of  the  tamaracks.  Here  and 
there  a  big  bowlder  raised  its  gray  face,  as  if  looking  for  the  sheep 
which  gamboled  around  it  in  the  Summer.  She  was  wondering 
what  Bob  was  going  to  do  to  help.  His  board  was  an  item  to 
be  considered.  Her  cream  check  would  go  but  just  so  far,  and 
there  was  not  much  else  for  groceries,  for  the  hens  had  gone 
out  of  business  for  the  nonce.  She  listened  abstractedly  to  the 
children.  Lucille's  orderly  soul  was  again  exasperated.  The 
boys  were  whittling  by  the  woodbox.  They  were  making  a 
wonderful  ship — an  ice  boat — and  Carlos  was  sure  that  the  steers 
would  draw  it  if  it  would  not  go  by  steering.  Madaline  was 
shirking  the  dishes,  and  Lucille  was  angry.  The  younger  girl 
stood  with  the  drying  towel  in  her  hand,  reading  a  newspaper 
while  the  dishes  were  slowly  growing  cold. 

Finally  Lucille  left  the  kitchen  indignantly.  "They  can  have 
it  their  own  way/'  she  said.  "I  am  not  going  to  do  another 
thing  out  there  to-day." 

Nell  spoke  a  few  words  quietly  to  Madaline,  who  shame- 
facedly put  the  newspaper  away  and  finished  up  the  work.  She 
paused  to  admire  the  boys'  ship,  then  suggested  that  they  go 
coasting.  It  was  prime  weather  for  that,  and  they  could  work 
on  the  ice-boat  when  it  stormed.  They  scampered  away  delight- 
edly, and  Madaline  followed  them.  Nell  returned  to  Lucille, 
who  was  brushing  Bob's  clothes. 

"I  don't  see  how  you  can  be  so  interested  in  all  their  tinker- 
ing," she  said.  "I  get  tired  of  it.  But  I  know  you  say  that  if  you 
are  not  interested  in  them  now  you  can't  hold  their  interest  when 
they  are  grown  up.  I  wonder  where  Bob  is?  I  spoke  to  him 
about  the  woodpile,  and  told  him  that  we  needed  wood.  I  also 
showed  him  the  ax,  but  it  looked  so  much  like  work  that  he  did 
not  give  it  a  second  glance.  I  think  he  went  down  the  road,  and 
I  am  afraid  went  to  Joe  Green's.  I  don't  see  what  he  can  find 
in  that  low  fellow  to  make  him  waste  his  time.  I  am  afraid  it 
is  the  cider.  Do  you  think  so?"  she  asked  abruptly. 

"Yes,  but  just  listen  to  this,  Lucille;  if  he  comes  back  from 
there  the  worse  for  it,  there  will  be  a  reckoning  that  he  will  not 


122  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

like.     But  don't  mention  it  any  more.     I  do  not  want  to  cross  the 
bridge  till  I  get  to  it." 

"I  will  talk  about  the  wood,  then,"  said  the  girl ;  "if  the  three 
small  boys  grow  up  like  him  and  don't  provide  wood  I  shall  leave 
home.  I  will  not  cook  for  them.  Why  should  a  woman  be 
either  afraid  or  compelled  to  ask  for  fuel?  Whoever  saw  a 
man  afraid  to  ask  if  dinner  was  ready?  Not  our  Bob  at  least. 
Now  he  could  go  to  work  and  get  up  a  year's  wood;  the  horses 
are  standing  in  the  barn  not  doing  anything  much,  but  he  seems 
to  think  that  Grandpa  and  the  boys  can  do  it  all.  They  are  in 
school  and  Grandpa  is  an  old  man.  They  can't  do  everything. 
Even  if  Bob  is  not  much  of  a  manager  there  is  much  he  could 
do.  He  could  repair  all  the  machinery  that  is  out  of  repair.  He 
could  mend  the  harnesses.  He  could  patch  up  the  barn  and  the 
sheep  shed,  so  we  will  not  lose  our  lambs  this  year.  There  is 
work  enough  to  keep  him  busy  every  minute  till  Spring,  but 
he  is  always  afraid,  when  he  is  home,  of  soiling  his  dainty  white 
hands.  He  used  to  spend  more  time  curling  his  moustache  than 
training  his  common  sense ;  but  now  that  he  has  shaved  his  mous- 
tache, I  hope  his  sense  will  grow.  Oh,  he  makes  me  tired,"  she 
declared  indignantly. 

"Bob  was  always  a  little  too  good-looking  for  his  own  peace 
of  mind/'  Nell  answered.  "I  used  to  be  a  trifle  hurt  when  we 
were  children  like  Madaline  and  Manning,  because  people  were 
always  commenting  on  his  beauty.  His  skin  was  so  clear,  his 
hair  such  a  mass  of  dark  curls  and  his  eyes  such  a  clear  dark 
gray ;  not  full  of  greenish  lights  like  mine.  And  I  was  thin  and 
freckled  and  lanky,  all  arms  and  legs,  like  Madaline.  His  face 
was  round  like  Carlos',  who  looks  so  much  as  he  did,  with  that 
lovable  dimple  in  his  cheek,  which  always  makes  one  forgive  him, 
no  matter  how  trying  he  is.  But  I  got  over  caring  about  looks 
long  ago,"  she  added  a  trifle  plaintively. 

"You  are  every  bit  as  good  looking  as  Bob  is  now,  and  better 
1  think,  even  when  you  are  tanned,"  cried  Lucille  indignantly. 
"Besides,  you  are  not  as  vain  as  he  is.  And  Manning  and  Ken- 
ton  are  nice-looking  boys.  We  Beverlys  all  look  alike,  even  if 


THE    PRODIGAL'S    RETURN.  123 

four  of  us  have  blue  eyes  and  brown  hair,  not  golden  brown  like 
3'ours,  but  plain  brown.  We  all  have  straight  noses  and  firm 
chins;  wide  foreheads  and  small  ears,  and  all  of  us  have  good- 
shaped  mouths  and  nice  teeth.  We  have  not  much  to  complain 
that  way,  though  we  are  not  beauties  and  don't  want  to  be.  But, 
speaking  of  Bob,  why  can't  he  be  like  you  and  be  contented  to 
help  us  get  ahead?  I  don't  believe  he  thinks  of  helping  us  any." 
"Bob  is  Bob ;  that  is  all  I  can  say,"  Nell  returned.  "Grandpa 
says  that  there  never  was  a  Beverly  yet  that  did  not  make  good, 
and  that  Bob  will  finally;  so  I  live  in  hopes.  I  don't  blame  him 
so  much,  for  I  think  it  is  the  shape  of  his  head  that  makes  him 
as  he  is.  He  can't  help  the  wanderlust,  as  I  have  told  you  before. 
It  is  not  him  to  settle  down  to  steady  occupation.  He  can't. 
Grandpa  says  he  is  like  that  line  of  Byron's  poem — 'A  wild  bird 
and  a  wanderer.'  Like  his  namesake,  Jason,  he  is  forever  search- 
ing for  the  Golden  Fleece.  Grandpa  says  that  one  of  his  uncles 
was  a  Jason  Beverly,  and  died  searching  for  it.  I  don't  believe 
the  name  has  anything  to  do  with  it,  but  I  wish  it  had  been  some- 
thing else.  But  mother  was  romantic,  and  the  only  chance  she 
had  to  express  that  part  of  her  nature  was  in  naming  us  children 
fanciful  names." 

"Of  course  you  will  find  excuses  for  him.  You  do  for  every- 
body but  yourself.  When  anything  that  you  do  goes  wrong  you 
blame  yourself  bitterly.  As  for  Bob  I  don't  make  any  excuses. 
His  eyes  may  be  handsome,  but  they  ought  to  see  necessary 
work  and  do  it ;  his  dimple  may  be  fetching,  but  it  ought  .to  fetch 
him  away  from  Joe  Green's.  If  he  had  any  self-respect  he  would 
not  go  there;  but  he  does  like  to  talk  and  brag  of  himself,  and 
Joe  is  a  good  listener — I'll  say  that  for  him.  Bob  is  like  a  wind- 
mill, he  turns  according  to  the  wind.  He  vexes  me,  so  I  wish 
he  had  stayed  in  the  Philippines." 

"I  don't  You  are  too  hard  on  him,  Lucille.  He  loves  you 
the  best  of  any  of  us,  and  yet  you  spurn  him  so.  You  are  never 
quite  won;  that  I  think  is  your  power  over  him.  You  ought  to 
be  grateful  for  the  chance  he  has  given  you  in  music,"  said  Nell 
sternly. 


124  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

"I  am ;  but  I  would  be  more  grateful  if  he  would  help  pay  the 
debts  which  we  run.  Here  not  one  of  us  can  have  the  things  we 
need,  because  every  spare  cent  has  to  go  on  paying  debts.  We 
shall  be  slaves  until  the  last  cent  is  paid,  and  does  he  care?"  she 
flashed  indignantly.  "Of  course  I  know  you  are  lowering  them. 
You  have  paid  on  the  Barry  debt  another  fifty  this  year,  and  a 
hundred  on  other  bills.  You  sold  hay  and  vegetables  and  berries 
and  apples  and  cream  and  eggs  and  chickens  to  raise  the  money, 
but  it  leaves  us  so  hard  up  all  the  time  that  we  have  to  think 
twice  if  we  buy  a  postage  stamp.  I  hate  to  be  poor  and  in  debt. 
I  hate  it.  I  would  not  mind  being  poor  if  it  was  not  for  the 
awful  debts.  Why  I  hate  to  see  anybody  that  we  owe.  I  feel  as 
if  they  were  thinking  'that  girl  is  dressing  and  living  on  my 
money.'  I  sometimes  feel  as  if  the  whole  world  was  shouting 
at  us  Beverlys,  Tay  me  that  thou  owest !'  "  Her  voice  broke  with 
sobs,  but  she  stifled  them  resolutely. 

"You  must  not  try  to  bear  the  burden  on  your  shoulders,  dear 
little  girl,"  said  Nell  gently.  "The  bills  are  more  than  three  hun- 
dred less  than  they  were.  If  we  have  a  good  season  next  year, 
we  shall  be  nearly  square  with  the  world.  See  what  a  help  you 
have  been  with  the  chickens.  I  never  had  any  luck  with  the 
incubator.  One  season  I  wasted  nearly  two  hundred  eggs ;  then  I 
let  the  hens  try  it  themselves,  with  the  result  that  I  scarcely 
raised  fifty  after  the  foxes  and  weasels  had  been  fed.  But  see 
what  you  have  done.  You  have  clothed  yourself  besides  paying 
the  grocery  bill  with  your  egg  money.  You  are  doing  just  as 
much  as  I  am.  Norval  says  you  will  be  a  success  at  that  bus- 
iness." 

"I  like  poultry,"  said  the  girl  brightening,  "and  Norval 
showed  me  just  how  to  manage  the  machines.  He  says  that 
next  year  if  I  have  lamp  brooders  I  can  do  a  big  thing  at  it.  He 
is  going  to  talk  it  over  with  you  when  he  comes  again." 

Nell  suppressed  a  smile.  She  did  not  dare  mention  Norval's 
interest  in  the  poultry  any  way  but  seriously  before  Lucille;  yet, 
neither  she  nor  Grandpa  were  blind  to  the  reason  of  the  physi- 
cian's son's  frequent  visits  to  the  farm.  "You  will  help  make 


THE    PRODIGAL'S    RETURN.  125 

this  farm  something  besides  the  Farm  of  Hope  Deferred,"  she 
said  presently.  "And  if  we  can  manage  to  get  the  lamp  brooder 
you  shall  have  it." 

"I  have  learned  so  many  things  since  I  began  farming,"  she 
continued  presently.  "I  know  why  our  sheep  never  used  to  be 
profitable;  there  was  too  much  inbreeding;  our  strawberries 
never  used  to  be  nice,  because  nobody  ever  had  time  to  attend 
to  them  properly.  Farming  is  like  housework;  it  is  never  done 
and  never  will  be.  But  it  can  be  made  a  splendid  success  by 
anyone  who  likes  it  and  will  take  pains  and  use  forethought. 
Successful  farming  is  a  business  enterprise  which  requires  capi- 
tal, experience,  capability  and  patience;  besides  a  manager,  book- 
keeper, clerks  and  drummers  to  find  the  markets." 

"We  shall  have  to  raise  more  than  we  have  in  the  past,  or  we 
shall  not  need  the  drummers,"  observed  Lucille  dryly. 

"And  I  have  the  whole  force  right  in  my  family,"  added  Nell 
gaily.  "We  will  raise  the  crops  and  conduct  the  business  and 
make  this  the  O.  K.  Fruit  Farm  of  West  Winthrop." 

"I  wish  we  could  raise  the  biggest  wood  pile;  that  would 
suit  me  as  well  as  the  biggest  berries.  When  Bob  comes  home 
I  am  going  to  get  right  after  him  about  it.  We  won't  have  one 
this  year  unless  I  do.  It  won't  hurt  him  to  callous  his  soft  hands. 
I  want  to  give  the  neighbors  something  to  talk  about,  and  they 
will  talk  if  they  hear  we  have  a  year's  wood  ahead.  But  who  is 
that  driving  in  the  yard?  It  looked  like  Norval's  horse.  Oh, 
it  is  Thompson,  the  grocer  from  East  Winthrop,"  she  added  in  a 
disappointed  voice. 

Nell  went  to  the  door  when  he  knocked.  He  had  heard  that 
Bob  was  home,  and  had  come  to  engage  him  to  drive  his  delivery 
wagon.  "He  was  the  best  clerk  I  ever  had  when  I  was  in  this 
town,"  he  said  cordially.  "If  he  had  stayed  with  me  I  don't 
think  I  should  have  sold  out  to  Barry ;  but  I  have  heard  so  many 
complaints  since  Barry's  sister  took  charge  of  the  business  that 
I  have  determined  to  start  up  just  over  the  line  in  East  Winthrop. 
I  understand  that  her  customers  are  leaving  her  by  the  dozens, 
and  they  want  me  to  take  the  trade  again." 


126  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

"I  wish  she  would  sell  out  to  you,"  Nell  returned,  "but  I  don't 
suppose  she  will." 

"Not  Sarepta;  that  isn't  her  way,"  he  laughed  pleasantly.  "I 
told  her  that  I  was  going  to  start  up  in  East  Winthrop  if  she 
would  not  sell  out  to  me,  and  thus  run  opposition  to  her.  She  told 
me  to  go  ahead,  and  I  have.  I  suppose  I  can  have  your  trade, 
Miss  Beverly?" 

Nell  hesitated  just  for  a  second.  "Mr.  Thompson,"  she  said 
flushing,  "while  I  will  do  my  best  to  get  Bob  to  work  for  you,  and 
I  know  no  reason  why  he  will  not  for  a  time  at  least,  I  do  not 
think  it  would  be  honorable  for  me  to  give  you  my  trade  as  long 
as  I  am  still  in  debt  to  Mr.  Barry.  Of  course  I  should  pay  cash, 
and  I  think  my  cash  trade  ought  to  go  to  the  man  who  has  been 
so  kind  to  me,  though  I  dislike  his  sister  above  everything 
earthly." 

"Good  for  you,  Miss  Nell,"  the  genial  grocer  held  out  his 
hand.  "You  spend  your  money  where  your  conscience  tells  you ; 
and  remember  this:  if  you  ever  want  a  friend  in  this  world  or 
the  next  call  on  Joe  Thompson." 

"I  will  if  we  are  in  the  same  place,"  she  answered  mis- 
chievously. 

"But  we  are  going  to  be,"  he  answered  laughingly.  "There 
will  be  only  one  place  for  a  girl  like  you  and  I'm  bound  the  same 
way  I  hope.  Now  about  Bob.  I'll  be  glad  of  your  brother's  help. 
Where  can  I  find  him?" 

"He  will  be  home  presently,"  she  evaded  him,  "and  then  he 
can  come  and  see  you.  You  know  we  are  but  a  half  mile  from 
the  East  Winthrop  line,  where  your  store  is.  I  am  quite  sure 
that"  you  will  get  him,  for  I  know  that  he  has  nothing  else  in 
view." 

After  he  was  gone  Lucille  spoke  indignantly.  "Of  all  the 
Quixote  ideas  I  ever  heard.  We  can't  trade  with  that  nice  Mr. 
Thompson  because  of  the  debt  to  the  Barrys.  And  she  hounding 
us  all  the  time  for  something.  I  know  she  will  be  so  disagree- 
able this  week  because  there  are  no  eggs ;  and  yet  you  favor  her. 
I  sometimes  think  you  have  no  more  common  sense  than  Bob." 


THE    PRODIGAL'S    RETURN.  127 

"It  is  the  slavery  of  debt,"  Nell  returned.  "  Poor,  sick  Mr. 
Barry  needs  the  money.  It  is  for  him  and  not  his  sister  that  I 
am  thinking.  I  don't  wonder,"  she  added,  "that  Carlos  told  the 
minister  in  Sunday  school  last  Summer  when  he  asked  the  chil- 
dren what  the  Eleventh  Commandment  was,  that  I  said  it  was 
'Never  run  in  debt.'  Grandpa  says  that  I  have  instilled  the  boys 
with  the  idea  that  running  in  debt  is  running  to  the  devil  and 
is  one  of  the  unforgivable  cardinal  sins  of  the  decalogue." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  "HOSS   TRADE." 

Bob  returned  at  dinner  time.  He  had  drank  just  enough  hard 
cider  to  make  him  irritable.  There  was  a  perpendicular  frown 
between  his  dark  eyebrows,  and  his  dimple  was  not  in  evidence. 
He  had  begun  to  feel  as  if  his  family  did  not  appreciate  him 
properly.  Now  Joe  Green  had  listened  to  his  tales  of  travel  and 
wonder  with  open-mouthed  appreciation,  and  had  praised  him 
loudly,  as  being  the  only  smart  fellow  ever  born  in  West  Win- 
throp.  Joe  had  sense;  something  more  than  Searls  Jackson  pos- 
sessed. Searls  had  been  at  Green's,  too,  that  morning  to  see  him 
about  Joe  working  for  him  in  the  woods;  and  he,  Searls,  had 
treated  Bob  with  a  sort  of  contemptuous  indifference  which  was 
very  irritating.  Jackson  had  told  him  abruptly  that  he  had 
bought  that  mining  certificate  from  Nell,  and  added  that  if  there 
were  any  objections  he  was  prepared  to  hear  them.  Bob  had 
not  learned  of  the  transfer,  but  he  concluded  it  best  not  to  be 
angry;  for,  of  course,  it  would  come  back  to  Nell  in  the  future. 
Yet  he  was  touched  about  it,  and  when  he  reached  home  he  was 
in  a  very  familiar  ungracious  mood. 

He  wanted  to  snarl  about  things,  but  there  was  something 
in  Nell's  manner  which  awed  him.  Lucille  was  more  dignified 
than  ever,  and  even  chatty  Madaline  did  not  have  much  to  say. 
The  boys  were  bubbling  with  good  spirits,  engrossing  Nell's  com- 
plete attention.  Manning  had  a  plan  of  damming  the  river  at  a 
certain  point  so  as  to  flood  a  hollow  in  the  flats  and  make  a  fine 
icepond.  He  knew  that  anyone  who  had  ice  to  sell  in  the  Summer 
could  make  money  ,and  as  soon  as  the  debts  were  paid  he  wanted 
an  icehouse  put  up.  Kenton  had  a  new  idea  about  surgery.  He 
had  found  a  frozen  bird  and  was  going  to  dissect  it,  and  Carlos 
intended  to  train  his  steers  that  afternoon  to  draw  the  bob-sled 
up  the  hill.  It  all  aggravated  Bob.  He  ate  his  dinner  sulkily,  and 
then  complaining  of  a  headache,  betook  himself  to  his  bedroom 
for  a  nap. 

Nell  had  too  much  wisdom  to  mention  anything  to  him  in  his 
present  mood.  She  had  moved  her  sewing  machine  back  into  the 


THE    "I1OSS    TRADE."  129 

front  room,  and  while  the  girls  washed  the  dinner  dishes  she 
resumed  her  sewing.  The  boys  were  shouting  at  their  play 
across  the  road,  and  she  knew,  instinctively,  that  Bob  would  like 
to  order  them  to  be  still,  but  that  he  hardly  dared  to  interfere 
with  their  fun. 

The  girls  came  to  her  presently.  "Bob  is  just  as  he  used  to 
be,"  said  Lucille  disgustedly.  "He  acts  as  if  home  was  the  place 
where  one  could  act  one's  worst ;  do  the  least  and  expect  the 
most.  I  don't  doubt  but  that  Joe  Green,  and  everybody  else 
thinks  he  is  the  most  pleasant,  genial  fellow  alive.  If  they  had 
to  live  with  him  they  would  change  their  minds." 

"He  is  tree-toad-trotter,"  remarked  Madaline  in  an  expres- 
sive though  difficult  alliteration.  "He  thinks  the  home-tree  has 
?ober,  sour  colors,  so  he  is  sober  and  sour;  on  Joe  Green's  tree 
or  anyone's  else  where  they  flatter  him,  he  is  as  gay  as  a  maple 
in  October.  One  thing  is  sure :  that  if  the  boys  grow  up  like 
him  they  will  get  into  trouble  with  me." 

"They  won't,"  said  Nell  confidently.  "Our  new  orchard  is 
dedicated  to  the  Giver  of  All  Good  Things,  and  no  fruit  which 
it  ever  produces  will  be  made  into  temptation  for  our  boys;  not 
while  I  am  alive  at  any  rate,"  she  added.  After  a  pause  she  said, 
"I  do  not  blame  Bob  so  much,  for  I  know  how  he  acquired  the 
taste.  Grandpa  and  father  always  thought  they  must  make  vinegar, 
so  they  put  down  cider  every  year.  When  Grandpa  was  a  boy  he 
used  to  go  to  the  cider  mill  and  suck  the  sweet  cider  through  a 
straw;  Father  did  the  same  and  of  course  Bob  did.  It  never 
created  any  taste  for  liquor  with  them,  but  it  did  with  Bob,  and 
we  realized  it  too  late.  I've  kept  the  little  boys  from  doing  that 
and  hope  to  be  always  able  to  keep  it  from  them;  and  as  long 
as  we  have  no  cider  barrel  I  can,  all  right.  Then  when  Bob 
grew  up  he  was  a  little  too  fond  of  'brook  water'  in  haying  time. 
But  there  is  no  use  to  talk  about  it.  I  can  find  excuses  enough 
for  him  if  I  try." 

"I  can't."  Lucille  was  white  to  her  lips.  "I  don't  care  if  I 
am  his  favorite ;  he  isn't  mine  and  never  will  be  unless  he  changes 
mightily.  The  old  maid  was  right  when  she  said  that  'a  brute 


130  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

was  an  unnatural  animal ;  but  man  was  a  natural  beast/  Men  and 
boys  are  such  awful  trials;  always  littering  up  things,  tracking 
up  clean  floors  and  eating  the  cookies  and  things  faster  than  they 
can  be  made." 

"What  a  good  world  this  would  be 
If  the  men  were  all  transported 
Far  beyond  the  Northern  Sea,"  sang  Nell  laughingly. 

Norval  Dixson  called  that  evening  with  some  new  incubator 
books.  Bob  was  himself  again,  and  was  anxious  to  acquit  him- 
self well  in  the  eyes  of  Lucille,  but  her  pleasure  at  seeing  Dixson 
threw  him  into  a  fever  of  jealousy.  He  found  himself  unnoticed 
as  the  girl  sat  down  to  the  piano  and  Dixson  began  tuning  up  his 
violin  for  an  evening's  enjoyment.  He  sought  out  Nell,  who  was 
sewing  in  the  dining-room.  "How  long  has  that  thing  been 
going  on?"  he  asked  gruffly. 

Nell  laughed.  She  had  expected  as  much.  "If  you  mean 
Norval's  liking  to  play  on  the  violin,  while  Lucille  plays  the 
piano — why  several  months.  He  is  one  of  the  nicest  young  men." 

"It  has  got  to  stop,"  he  ordered.  "The  girl  is  too  young  to 
have  any  man's  attentions." 

"Who  is  going  to  stop  it?  You,  or  me,  or  Lucille?"  she 
asked  quietly. 

"I,"  he  blustered.    "I  am  the  head  of  the  house?" 

"Are  you?"  Nell's  tone  indicated  complete  surprise.  "Pardon 
me,  but  I  was  laboring  under  the  delusion  that  I  was.  And 
besides  I  fancy  you  would  have  but  very  little  influence  over  the 
girl.  You  will  have  to  win  her  respect,  first.  Listen,  Bob." 
unconsciously  to  herself  her  voice  and  manner  was  of  the  school- 
room. "You  have  forgotten  that  she  is  in  her  eighteenth  year. 
I  know  her  feelings.  Norval  is  the  only  young  man  she  has  ever 
noticed  in  the  least.  I  hope  he  will  want  her  for  a  wife  within  ten 
years,  but  I  know  enough  never  to  mention  such  a  thing  to  her. 
I  have  had  to  discipline  Manning  for  his  teasing.  He  comes 
occasionally,  and  she  likes  him  because  he  is  a  gentleman.  That 
is  all  there  is  to  it,  and  I  warn  you  not  to  meddle.  And  as  for 
your  being  the  head  of  the  house,  understand  once  for  all  that 


THE    "HOSS    TRADE."  131 

you  are  not,  and,  furthermore,  never  will  be.  When  you  were  a 
child  you  had  to  be  handled  firmly.  Coaxing  and  patience  had 
no  effect  whatever,  and  I  have  no  gloves  on  to-night.  You  will 
either  give  up  hard  cider  or  give  up  your  home  here.  Which 
way  is  it  to  be?  I  am  not  going  to  have  the  boys  under  your 
bad  influence." 

He  shifted  uneasily.  "You  are  a  narrow,  puritanical  bigot. 
You  never  step  off  your  own  doorsteps,  and  you  know  no  more  of 
the  world  than  the  Malays  do,"  he  snarled.  "Just  because  I  took 
a  glass  that  Joe  Green  offered  me  to-day  I  am  in  for  a  curtain 
lecture.  I've  got  to  be  a  good  fellow  with  the  rest  of  them." 

"Miss  Dallas  says  that  a  Good  Fellow  is  a  Good  Thing,"  said 
Carlos  solemnly  from  the  doorway.  "And  she  said  a  Good  Thing 
lived  on  Easy  Street  and  just  because  people  laughed  when  he 
made  a  fool  of  himself  he  thought  he  was  smart.  But  nobody 
respected  a  Good  Thing.  She  told  the  truth,  didn't  she,  Bob?" 
said  the  child  climbing  up  into  his  brother's  lap.  "You  wouldn't 
be  a  Good  Thing,  would  you  Bob?"  he  persisted.  "Miss  Dallas 
said  that  the  hardest  thing  in  the  world  was  to  say  'No/  I  told 
her  my  brother  Bob  had  done  lots  of  hard  things  and  could  say 
'No'  every  time.  Can't  you,  Bob?" 

The  young  man  laughed  nervously.  The  child's  prattle  was 
harder  to  answer  than  Nell's  admonitions.  "What  if  I  should 
say  'No'  and  not  let  you  sleep  with  me,  Carlos  ?  You  would  not 
like  that,  would  you?" 

"But  I  could,  anyway,  'cause  Nell  said  so,"  he  returned  posi- 
tively. 

"Then  whatever  Nell  says  goes,  I  suppose,"  a  trifle  bitterly. 

"Sure.     She  is  the  best  ever,"  the  boy  answered  confidently. 

"I  shall  work  for  Thompson,  and  am  glad  of  the  chance,"  said 
Bob  abruptly.  "I  am  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  help  hit  Miss 
Sarepta  a  few  whacks.  Her  brother  is  as  white  a  man  as  Thomp- 
son, and  that  is  saying  a  good  deal.  "If  I  go  to  work  there,  prob- 
ably Lucille  will  come  down  a  peg  or  two,  won't  she  ?" 

"She  will  if  you  will  provide  a  wood  pile,"  said  Nell  smilingly. 
'That  is  the  one  desire  of  her  heart  at  present. 


132  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

"It  shall  be  done;  and  I  will  pay  for  having  it  cut  and  sawed, 
and  she  shall  say  when  the  pile  is  big  enough  to  suit  her,"  he 
agreed  heartily.  Once  whipped  Bob  had  always  been  very  lovable 
till  he  needed  another  thrashing.  His  dimple  was  in  evidence 
then,  and  Nell  was  smiling  contentedly.  She  knew  for  the  pres- 
ent that  Bob  would  be  all  right.  "What  a  fine  girl  she  is !"  he 
continued  proudly.  "There  is  not  another  equal  to  her,  anyway, 
and  Dr.  Dixson  won't  be  ashamed  if  she  comes  into  his  family. 
Madaline  is  all  right,  but  she  is  such  a  madcap  and  such  a  kid. 
Lucille  for  me  every  time.  I  am  going  in  there  to  hear  some 
music." 

He  began  work  the  next  week.  He  boarded  at  home,  paying 
four  dollars  a  week,  his  own  offer.  Mr.  Thompson's  influence 
over  him  was  the  very  best,  so  Nell  did  not  worry  very  much  over 
the  many  places  he  would  pass  on  his  daily  routes  where  the  bulk- 
heads were  always  open  and  cider  as  free  as  water.  Lucille's 
scorn  and  Carlos'  idolatrous  trust  in  him  helped  to  keep  him 
straight  most  of  the  time.  There  were  occasional  lapses,  when 
Nell  would  speak  her  mind  in  a  few  words  and  Lucille  calmly 
ignore  his  very  existence.  One  remark  of  hers  he  overheard — 
that  if  he  knew  what  a  beast  he  made  of  himself  at  such  times  he 
would  be  ashamed  enough  to  die — stung  him  like  a  lash.  He 
wanted  her  approval  above  everything  else  earthly,  and  the  sight 
of  the  woodshed  crowded  full  of  sawed  and  split  wood,  and  the 
piles  hauled  up  in  the  lot  east  of  the  house  to  dry  at  leisure  for 
the  next  year's  fuel,  went  a  long  way  in  restoring  him  to  her 
favor. 

He  proved  that  he  had  had  enough  of  wandering  by  keeping 
steadily  at  work  even  after  the  Spring  opened,  for  in  years  gone 
by  the  coming  of  Spring  had  always  started  the  wanderlust  fever 
to  burning  in  his  veins,  and  go  he  would,  no  matter  what  hap- 
pened. But  this  year  he  never  mentioned  going  away.  His  work 
was  congenial,  and  besides  he  enjoyed  having  a  place  that  was 
really  home  to  him. 

He  furnished  the  money  to  hire  the  plowing  done,  and  the 
getting  in  of  the  crops,  so  that  Nell  could  bend  every  energy  to  the 


THE    "HOSS    TRADE."  133 

growing  crops  and  to  the  fruit,  which  was  beginning  to  shadow 
forth  promises  of  future'  abundance.  A  fine  strawberry  bed  had 
been  set  out  the  previous  year,  and  Nell  had  learned  from  experi- 
ence that  only  diligent  care  and  high  cultivation,  as  well  as  vigor- 
ous pruning,  could  produce  the  best  results.  As  expressed  by 
Madaline,  "The  strawberry  vine  was  a  good  mother,  but  was  no 
calculator ;  if  left  to  her  own  sweet  will  she  would  raise  a  bigger 
family  than  she  could  properly  care  for,"  and  she  was  eager  to 
help  her  sister  in  leaving  a  few  "children"  for  hedging  the  rows 
and  in  cutting  away  the  too  many  troublesome  "grandchildren." 

As  the  season  progressed  it  brought  prosperity.  The  lambs 
were  the  finest  they  had  ever  raised  and  when  the  strawberries 
ripened  they  were  first-class,  commanding  highest  market  price. 

"Aren't  they  beauties?"  she  asked  Bob  proudly,  as  he  was 
packing  the  crates  in  his  delivery  wagon. 

''Oh,  fair,"  he  answered  critically,  "but  up  on  the  Smith  place 
they  have  what  7  call  berries.  Why,  the  smallest  of  them  is  as 
big  as  my  thumb." 

The  girl  winced.  The  speech  was  so  characteristic.  Every- 
one else  always  had  the  superior  article.  "But  the  crop  is  im- 
mense," she  persisted. 

"They  look  good  to  you,  but  if  you  were  out  around  the 
country  as  I  am,  you  would  see  crops.  But  you  stay  right  here 
on  these  flats  and  think  they  are  the  only  things  on  earth.  Why, 
Joe  Green's  potato  vines  are " 

"Bother  Joe  Green,"  interrupted  Lucille.  "Nell  did  not  say 
anything  about  his  potatoes  or  cider  apples,  either." 

Bob  was  angry,  but  as  Lucille  had  said  it,  he  did  not  retort. 
Nell  changed  the  subject  quickly. 

"Do  you  think  you  can  help  in  the  haying  any?  I  want  to 
begin  just  as  soon  as  the  berries  are  gone." 

"I  can't  get  away.  What  are  you  thinking  about?"  he  de- 
manded irritably. 

"I  meant  in  helping  pay  a  man." 

"Good  Lord,  Nell ;  what  do  you  take  me  for,  the  head  af  a 
bank?  I  had  to  buy  an  auto  cap  yesterday  on  tick,  but  a  fellow 


134  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

must  have  a  cap  if  he  runs  a  machine.  One  would  think  that  the 
money  I  pay  for  board  ought  to  satisfy  you.  It  isn't  every  fellow 
that  has  to  pay  board  in  his  own  home,"  he  grumbled. 

"I  need  a  new  sun  hat  to  wear  in  riding  my  machine,"  said 
Nell  dryly,  "but  I  shan't  run  in  debt  for  it  if  I  never  have  one." 

"Oh,  you  are  crazy  about  debts.  It  is  all  I  hear  from  morning 
to  night,  just  debts,  debts,  debts.  You  can't  have  this — and  you 
can't  have  that  because  of  the  debts.  Those  fellows  can  get  along 
without  the  money  just  as  well  as  we  can.  Oh,  I  know  you've  got 
it  in  for  me  because  I  bought  that  automobile.  Think  I  ought  to 
have  paid  the  old  bills  first.  It  was  a  cinch  my  getting  it;  such  a 
chance  might  not  happen  in  a  lifetime.  A  brand-new  machine 
that  had  got  a  kink  its  fool  of  an  owner  could  not  straighten  out. 
He  was  wild  to  sell,  and  when  I  offered  him  my  shares  in  the 
Luck  Mine  for  it  be  nabbed  me.  So  I  got  rid  of  some  doubtful 
paper  in  exchange  for  a  dandy  machine  at  half  price.  You  can't 
get  ahead  of  your  Brother  Bob  on  a  bargain,"  he  bragged  as  he 
drove  merrily  away. 

Nell  was  disgusted  with  his  selfishness.  That  automobile  was 
proving  a  white  elephant  to  the  whole  family.  A  garage  had  had 
to  be  built  below  the  barn,  and  there  the  machine  stood  all  the 
week  excepting  Sundays,  when  Bob  toured  the  country  delight- 
edly. It  was  an  expensive  luxury,  and  took  every  cent  he  could 
spare  to  keep  up  the  necessary  repairs  and  the  gasoline.  But  the 
small  boys  were  wild  over  it,  and  Bob  was  glad  to  give  them  all 
the  rides  they  desired.  The  girls  disapproved  because  Nell  did, 
and  Grandpa  was  non-committal. 

"We  shall  have  to  get  in  the  hay  ourselves  again,"  she  said 
to  the  children.  "Bob  has  no  intentions  of  helping  us  out.  I  saw 
Miss  Barry  yesterday,  and  of  course  she  dunned  me.  She  isn't 
satisfied  with  the  crate  of  berries  she  gets  daily.  That  automobile 
she  blames  me  for,  though  I  told  her  I  had  nothing  to  do  about 
it.  She  said  that  if  she  had  such  a  spendthrift  brother  she  would 
disown  him.  She  thinks  we  must  finish  paying  that  bill  this  year. 
I  told  her  we  would,  if  possible.  And  if  we  do  we  will  have  to 
work  for  our  lives.  Oh,  a  family  in  debt,  is  a  family  of  slaves." 


THE    "HOSS    TRADE."  135 

She  sat  down  on  an  empty  crate  dejectedly,  feeling  more  like 
crying  than  anything  else.  Searls  drove  into  the  yard  with  a 
flourish,  and  catching  sight  of  her  distressed  face,  called  out 
cheerily  to  know  if  she  was  crying  because  there  were  more 
berries  than  she  could  gather." 

"No,"  she  said  confusedly.  "I  am  just  a  little  blue,  that  is  all. 
Bob  was  just  here,  and  he  thinks  that  my  berries  are  not  as  nice 
as  Smith's  or  the  potatoes  as  good  as  the  neighbors  have,"  she 
explained. 

"Well,  I  do  not  know  what  he  tells  you,  but  I  heard  him  brag- 
ging in  the  store  last  night  that  they  were  the  best  ever,"  he 
answered. 

Nell's  face  was  a  study.  "I  would  never  know  that  he  was 
pleased  with  anything  only  as  it  comes  to  me  second  hand.  I 
would  appreciate  mightily  a  little  credit  from  him,  because  I  have 
worked  so  hard.  Probably  he  says  'we  raised  the  berries/  'our 
fruit,'  and  so  forth.  Managing  to  drag  in  the  'we'  as  often  as 
Miss  Barry  does  when  she  asks  for  money.  It  is  always  'we  want 
this  or  that'  when  I  know  it  is  just  herself.  So  I  suppose  Bob 
says  'we,'  too." 

"Searls  laughed.  "How  do  you  like  my  new  horse.  There  is 
no  'we'  about  it.  It  is  all  T." 

"And  a  watch  eye  at  that.  And  such  a  funny  piebald  crea- 
ture. Where  and  when  did  you  get  him?"  she  asked  curiously. 

"From  the  East  Winthrop  preacher,"  he  said,  his  eyes  twink- 
ling. "Sorry  I  can't  stop  now  to  tell  you  about  it,  but  I  have  a 
board  meeting  to  attend  within  half  an  hour.  Just  stopped  to 
tell  you  mother  wants  a  crate  of  berries  when  I  come  back.  She 
thinks  they  are  better  and  sweeter  than  Smith's." 

An  hour  later  Joe  Green  put  in  his  appearance,  and  climbing 
on  the  stone  wall  settled  himself  for  a  chat.  "None  of  you  went 
out  to  the  East  Winthrop  camp  meeting  last  Sunday  night," 
he  began. 

"No;  we  were  all  too  tired  from  berry  picking,  and  needed 
Sunday  for  rest,"  Nell  answered,  picking  away  diligently. 


136  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

Joe  chuckled.  "Then  you  didn't  hear  about  the  preacher's 
not  showin'  up?"  he  asked. 

"Why,  didn't  he?"  asked  Madaline  becoming  interested.  "We 
haven't  heard  anything  about  it. 

"Wa'al,  you  see  he  had  been  tradin'  hosses  with  Searls  Jack- 
son, Sat'day,"  began  Joe  leisurely.  "Searls  hadn't  had  the  critter 
more'n  a  week  hisself,  but  I  don't  think  that  that  made  any  differ- 
ence about  the  trade  as  far  as  Searls  goes.  He  is  a  sharp  one  to 
trade  hosses,  Searls  is ;  though  nobody  can  ever  say  he  lies  about 
anything.  He  tells  the  truth  as  far  as  he  goes,  but  sometimes  he 
goes  a  mighty  short  ways  in  doin'  it.  Why,  I  swapt  with  him 
wunst  and  got  burnt  so  bad  that  I  have  smelt  of  burnt  woolen 
ever  since."  ("I  thought  it  was  cider")  observed  Madaline  under 
her  breath.  The  boys  tittered,  but  Joe,  thinking  himself  appreci- 
ated, continued: 

"As  I  was  asayin'  they  traded.  And  Sunday  night  the 
preacher  while  drivin'  down  to  meetin'  thought  he'd  drive  through 
the  river,  seein'  as  it  is  shaller,  and  so  water  his  hoss  instead  of 
crossin'  the  bridge.  He'd  soak  his  tires  up  a  little,  too,  as  it  is 
gettin'  so  powerful  dry.  But  that  hoss  of  his'n  which  he  had  jest 
traded  fer,  is  sort  of  unsartain  critter,  you  know.  When  he  got 
in  the  middle  of  the  river  and  the  water  was  up  on  his  sides,  he 
stopped  plum ;  and  no  amount  of  coaxin'  or  whippin'  could  make 
him  budge  one  step.  He  jest  stood  there  as  ca'm  as  you  please, 
enjoyin'  the  coolness  of  the  water,  as  it  was  a  mighty  hot  night, 
and,  as  the  preacher  said  later,  the  critter  evidently  thought  that 
now  was  the  accepted  time  fer  him  to  enjoy  a  good  thing  when 
he  had  it.  Ef  it  hadn't  a  been  that  the  preacher  would  ha'  spiled 
his  best  does,  why  he  would  have  dumb  out  and  waded  ashore. 
But  he  sot  thar  till  near  nine,  while  the  people  got  tired  of  waitin' 
at  the  church  and  started  fer  home.  Anybody  would  ha'  known 
that  that  preacher  wa'nt  no  Baptist  ef  they  had  seen  him  as  I 
did,  a-settin'  there  with  his  feet  up  in  the  dashboard,  as  plain  as 
day  in  the  moonlight.  I  was  ridin'  with  Searls  when  we  seen 
him.  "What  you  doin'  down  there  ?"  called  Searls.  "Waiting  fer 
this  hoss's  spirit  to  move  so  I  can  get  to  the  meetin',"  called  back 


THE    "HOSS    TRADE."  137 

the  preacher.  "You  said  that  hoss  was  so  trained  that  he  would 
allus  stop  when  runnin'  away,  ef  he  came  to  water;  he'd  b'en 
broke  that  way.  An'  I  b'lieve  you  told  the  truth.  And  you  said 
he  had  once  been  owned  by  a  Quaker.  That  was  another  truth, 
but  you  failed  to  add  that  he  had  a  Quaker  disposition.  Now,  if 
you  have  anything  different  up  there  I  would  like  to  try  some- 
thing else,  as  I  don't  care  to  stay  in  the  middle  of  this  river  till 
the  water  dries  up.'  " 

"How  Searls  did  laff.  'I've  got  one  right  here,'  he  calls  back, 
"that  was  raised  by  a  Methodist  and  I  will  warrant  him  never  to 
shirk  his  duty  on  going  to  meetin'."  'Then  he  is  the  one  I  want,' 
calls  back  the  preacher.  Then  what  did  that  Jackson  do  but  get 
out  of  his  carriage,  take  off  his  shoes  and  roll  up  his  pants,  and 
into  the  river  he  waded  right  up  to  that  piebald  critter.  He  took 
him  by  his  head,turned  him  around  with  a  slap  and  he  pulled  that 
buggy  out  of  the  water  quicker  than  the  preacher  could  wink. 
"That's  what  he  wanted,"  said  Searls,  "he  wanted  to  be  turned 
around.  There  is  more  than  one  way  to  manage  a  balky  hoss." 
Then,  as  the  preacher  was  afraid  he  couldn't  get  home  with  pie- 
bald they  unhitched  bosses  and  hitched  'em  again  to  the  different 
buggies.  They  didn't  call  it  a  swap  as  it  was  Sunday  night,  but 
jest  an  'commodation ;  but  I'm  thinkin'  that  if  I  and  Pierre  Benoit 
hed  'commodated  each  other  on  Sunday  night  folks  would  have 
called  it  a  hoss  trade,"  he  added  shrewdly.  "Everybody  is  laffin' 
about  it,  but  both  Searls  and  the  preacher  is  satisfied.  They  talked 
it  over  agin  on  Monday  to  take  off  the  cuss  of  swappin'  on 
Sunday." 

"That  is  a  great  joke  on  Searls,"  laughed  Manning,  "and  he 
is  such  a  strict  Sunday  man,  too.  The  men  who  work  there  say 
that  he  will  trade  horses  till  midnight  of  Saturday,  but  if  it  is 
not  ended  then  he  won't  do  anything  more  about  it  till  Monday." 

"He  is  mighty  strict  about  the  Sabbath,"  agreed  Joe.  "I  do 
believe  that  he  would  let  all  of  his  hay  spile  before  he  would  put 
it  in  on  that  day.  And  his  mother  is  just  as  bad.  She  will 
not  cook  a  bit  nor  wash  a  dish,  but  will  eat  cold  food  all  day 
Sunday.  She  didn't  uset  to  even  make  a  cup  of  tea,  but  sense 


138  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

she's  gettin'  old  and  it  gives  her  a  headache  to  eat  cold  grub  and 
drink  cold  water,  she  will  bile  the  kittle  fer  tea.  Searls  told  me 
that  when  he  was  a  little  feller  like  Carlos,  he  actually  believed 
that  roosters  allers  came  from  the  aigs  that  hens  laid  on  Sunday, 
and  that  was  the  reason  they  fit  each  other.  Guess  he  don't 
think"  it  is  wicked  fer  cider  to  work  on  Sunday,  though.  I  like 
to  work  there  fust  rate.  The  grub  is  fust  class  and  so  is  the 
pay,  to  say  nothin'  of  the  cider.  He  don't  need  to  put  no  'stick' 
in  it;  it  is  stiff  enough  without." 

Nell  made  no  comment.  After  a  slight  pause  Joe  continued. 
He  delighted  in  monopolizing  the  conversation  and  now  was  a 
good  chance  to  give  Nell  a  dig. 

"They  say  everybody  squeezes  a  gnat  and  swallers  a  camel. 
Searls'  gnat  is  the  Sunday  observance,  and  his  cider  is  the  camel ; 
while  your  gnat  is  the  cider  and  your  camel  is  the  Sunday.  You 
needn't  flush  up  so  about  it.  You  know  you  will  do  work  you 
think  is  necessary  even  ef  it  is  Sunday.  You  don't  cal'late  no 
more'n  I  do  to  let  good  hay  spile  on  Sunday;  none  of  the  Bev- 
erlys  ever  did.  Now  I  don't  believe  that  Sunday  is  no  better  than 
no  other  day,  'cept  as  a  feller  don't  hev  to  work.  But  speakin' 
of  hay,  who  is  goin'  to  put  yours  in  for  you  this  year  ?" 

"We  are,"  said  Nell  briefly,  gathering  up  her  baskets  and 
packing  them  in  the  crates. 

"Dew  tell.  Thought  you  got  all  you  wanted  of  that  last  year. 
Your  old  man  was  a-tellin'  me  how  he  couldn't  use  his  left  arm 
good  on  account  of  the  rheumatiz.  Guess  he  won't  do  much 
pitchin'  this  year,  and  you  and  the  boys  can't  do  it  all.  Better 
let  Pierre  do  it.  He  is  goin'  to  cut  most  everybody's  and  he  will 
get  yours  in  if  you  wait. 

"I  don't  want  mine  cut  after  it  has  spoiled,  and  after  he  fin- 
ishes for  everyone  else.  I  told  you  we  were  going  to  do  it  our- 
selves," she  answered  firmly. 

"Blame  a  schoolma'am  anyway,"  muttered  Joe  as  he  lumbered 
off  the  wall,  loosening  a  stone  which  he  did  not  stop  to  replace 
as  he  started  homeward.  "I  can  tell  one  anywhere.  If  they  are 
good  for  anything  they  are  sure  to  be  as  sot  as  a  meetin"  house." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


Haying  time  was  nearly  over,  and  the  song  of  the  mowing 
machine  had  been  heard  for  days  on  the  Beverly  flats;  Nell  was 
mowing  one  morning  as  usual.  The  grass  was  thick  and  long, 
and  the  old  Buckeye  was  a  little  balky,  she  remarked  to  Joe 
Green,  who  was  hanging  over  the  wall  watching  her  admiringly, 
as  she  drove  the  machine  fearlessly  through  the  tangled  swale 
grass.  "Ef  you  ever  strike  one  of  them  blind  rocks  goin'  at  that 
gait,"  he  shouted,  "you  will  go  to  heaven  flyin'." 

''Then  I  won't  need  wings  when  I  get  there,"  she  called  back 
laughingly,  as  she  started  to  circle  the  field  again.  With  one 
foot  on  the  lever  she  dexterously  lifted  the  bar  over  the  rocks, 
as  the  machine  mowed  its  wide  swath  through  the  tall  grass.  She 
stopped  when  she  reached  Joe  again  for  a  breathing  spell. 
"There,"  she  said  triumphantly.  "See  all  that  I  have  mowed 
this  morning.  Don't  you  think  that  that  is  a  very  creditable  piece 
of  work  for  a  woman?" 

"Mebbe  it  is,"  he  answered,  "but  I  don't  like  to  see  you  do  it 
just  the  same.  Jackson's  got  a  little  more  tew  dew  termorry 
and  I  told  the  old  woman  I'd  see  ef  I  could  help  you  this  mornin'. 
I'm  goin'  to  the  ball  game  at  the  park  this  afternoon." 

"Much  obliged  for  your  offer,  Joe,"  she  answered,  "but  I 
think  I  shall  have  to  decline,  It  is  no  worse  for  me  to  do  it  this 
season  than  it  has  been  before,  and  every  dollar  counts," 

"I'd  like  mighty  well  to  help  you,"  he  returned,  "and  I 
wouldn't  charge  you  much  of  nothin'  either.  No  use?"  as  Nell 
shook  her  head.  "Well,  then,  I  think  I'll  get  along  to  the  park. 
I  might  as  well  put  the  day  in  while  I'm  about  it.  You  will 
have  to  look  sharp  after  the  wasups.  Pierre  Benoit  was  tellin' 
me  that  he  never  see  the  wasups  as  thick  as  they  air  this  year. 
They  druv  him  out  of  Smith's  mowin'  yistaday  an'  he  says  that 
he  got  stung  so  bad  he  couldn't  tell  what  color  he  was." 


140  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

"I  don't  believe  that  he  looked  out  very  sharp,"  she  returned. 
"I've  never  been  stung  to  amount  to  anything  yet,  and  don't 
expect  to  be.  But  Grandpa  says  that  after  as  much  rain  as  we 
have  had  the  wasps  will  be  thick;  so  it  isn't  stones  that  I  am 
looking  out  for,  but  wasps.  Much  obliged  for  your  advice  just 
the  same." 

"It  beats  all  how  easy  you  take  to  farmin',"  he  remarked  as 
he  started  to  go.  "You  don't  make  hard  work  on  it  at  all ;  and 
it  does  beat  the  Dutch  how  this  farm  has  come  up  in  condition 
fer  the  last  three  years.  Nobody  around  here,  even  Searls,  has 
sech  nice-lookin'  crops  as  you  have.  You've  got  a  knack  at  it ; 
that's  all.  Folks  air  sayin'  that  you  made  a  pile  uv  money  on 
your  berries." 

"I  made  some,  but  I  did  not  get  rich,"  she  answered.  "Farm- 
ers don't  get  rich  in  one  or  two,  or  half  a  dozen  years.  They 
have  to  keep  working  all  the  time.  Like  housework,  it  is  never 
done/' 

"But  it  beats  all  how  different  folks  goes  at  it.  Some  raise 
nothin'  but  hopes;  others  raise  corn  an'  a  few  raise  nothin'  but 
the  Old  Boy ;  but  it  looks  ter  me  as  if  corn  would  go  the  farthest 
in  carryin'  fer  a  family;  but  I've  noticed  that  the  farmers  that 
raise  nothin'  but  the  last  I  mentioned,  air  allus  a  kickin'  'cause 
they  don't  git  a  square  deal ;  when  it  ain't  a  square  deal  they  are 
atter  but  a,  round  deal,  sech  as  race  tracks  and  sech  things.  The 
old  woman  thinks  a  ball  game  is  about  the  wust  thing  agoin, 
but  she  don't  know  nothin'  about  it.  I'll  hike  along  or  she'll  be 
sendin'  a  young  un  to  look  me  up." 

"It  is  quite  awhile  before  the  ball  game  commences,"  she 
returned.  "It  seems  to  me  as  there  was  hoeing  or  something 
else  you  could  do  instead  of  losing  the  whole  day." 

"It  is  this  way  about  the  hoeing,"  he  began  confidently. 
"There  ain't  no  use  in  my  doin'  it.  The  old  woman  has  sech  an 
abhorrence  of  dirt,  that  seein'  as  she  can't  help  Nater's  way  of 
making  things  grow  in  the  dirt,  she  jest  enjies  a  whacking  and 
poundin'  it  in  the  garden.  It  does  her  good  to  stir  it  up,  seein' 
as  she  can't  git  rid  on  it,  so  I  let  her  and  the  young  uns  do  the 


FRIDAY    THE    THIRTEENTH.  141 

hoeing.  'Sides,  I  ain't  be'n  feelin'  very  well  lately,  and  I  need 
a  day  off." 

"What  has  been  the  trouble?"  she  inquired. 

"Nothin'  that  I  can  rightly  lay  hold  on.  Jest  the  same  old 
stew  warmed  over,  I  guess.  The  old  woman  won't  believe  it, 
but  it  is  true  that  my  insides  ain't  well  at  all.  Sometimes  I  think 
I  ain't  long  fer  this  world.  The  trouble  is  I've  allus  worked 
mighty  hard." 

"I  think  that  hard  cider  is  what  ails  you,"  she  said  decisively. 

"Hard  cider  nothin',"  he  returned  irritably.  "  'Tain't  never 
hurt  nobody  and  never  will.  It  is  hard  work  what's  done  it. 
Once  I  was  powerful  sick  and  got  all  ready  to  die,  but  the  old 
woman  sent  for  Dr.  Dixson  and  he  put  a  stop  to  it.  Ef  I'd  died 
then  I'd  be'n  saved,"  he  added  sorrowfully,  "but  sence  then  I 
ain't  never  be'n  sure  but  that  ef  I  died  the  devil  would  get  me." 

"It  seems  to  me  you  talk  about  him  considerably,"  she  laughed. 

"I  have  to,  fer  as  I  don't  know  into  whose  hands  I  shall  fall, 
I  want  ter  be  on  the  good  side  of  both  of  'em,"  he  replied  can- 
didly. "I  don't  swear  much  'cept  at  hosses  and  when  I  get  mad. 
That's  keeping  on  the  right  side  of  the  Lord,  and  I  speak  about 
the  other  feller  so  as  not  to  hurt  his  feelin's.  Sometimes  I  don't 
care  much  what  becomes  of  me  so  long  as  I  don't  git  ter  a  place 
that's  so  turribly  neat  that  I  can't  take  no  comfort.  I  yuster  git 
some  comfort  in  the  woodshed,  but  sence  the  old  woman  tuk  to 
scrubbin'  that  I've  hed  to  go  to  the  barn;  and  I'm  jest  'spectin* 
all  the  time  that  she'll  come  out  thar  a-huntin'  dirt.  She'll  find 
it  ef  she  does." 

He  shambled  away,  and  Nell  started  up  the  horse.  She  had 
crossed  the  field  and  was  part  way  back  when  something  hap- 
pened. Dick,  the  nigh  horse,  suddenly  sprang  forward  with  a 
shrill  neigh.  Dora  stopped  instantly,  and  the  sudden  jerking  of 
the  machine  threw  Nell  from  her  seat.  She  saved  herself  by 
jumping  to  the  left,  landing  with  both  feet  into  a  wasps'  nest, 
just  as  the  horses,  kicking  and  plunging,  started  to  run,  but  were 
stopped  by  Manning,  who  at  that  moment  had  come  to  the  field. 

For  a  few  seconds  she  danced  madly,  trying  to  escape  from 


142  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

the  hundreds  of  wasps  that  came  boiling  up  from  the  ground 
like  whitewash  in  a  bowl.  Blinded  by  the  pain,  she  ran  after  the 
horses,  running  into  Grandpa,  who  had  dropped  his  scythe  and 
hastened  to  the  scene  of  the  excitement.  Over  him  she  stumbled, 
then  brushing  her  hair  out  of  her  eyes  she  looked  at  him  rue- 
fully as  he  tried  to  pick  himself  up  from  an  undignified  heap  in 
the  grass. 

"What  are  you  trying  to  do?"  he  said  coolly.  "Thought  the 
grass  was  tangled  enough  already  without  your  taking  headers 
through  it." 

"Me  ?"  she  said.  "Oh,  I  was  taking  a  little  fat-deducing  exer- 
cise as  Joe  Green  says.  Got  tired  of  riding  and  thought  I  would 
run." 

"So  I  perceive,"  he  said,  rubbing  his  lame  shoulder.  "You 
believe  in  running  over  obstacles,  don't  you?  What  happened 
anyway?  If  Manning  had  not  appeared  in  the  nick  of  time  we 
would  have  had  a  smashed  mowing  machine." 

"Guess  you  would  know  what  had  happened"  called  the  boy, 
"if  you  had  stopped  these  horses.  Both  of  them  have  got  stings 
as  big  as  butternuts  on  their  legs.  Confound  these  wasps  any- 
way." 

"Go  to  the  house  and  get  the  liniment  for  stings,"  called 
Grandpa,  rising  with  difficulty.  "Don't  believe  the  wasps  hurt 
the  horses  any  more  than  Nell  hurt  me." 

"Had  the  lotion  in  my  pocket  and  used  it,"  he  answered. 
"The  horses  will  be  all  right  soon.  I've  killed  pretty  near  a  mil- 
lion of  the  wasps  already  that  were  buzzing  around  the  team." 

"And  I  sat  down  on  another  million,"  said  Nell.  "After  first 
jumping  on  the  nuisance  I  sat  on  it,"  she  continued  drily.  "As  it 
is  now  I've  got  a  lump  on  my  arm  as  big  as  a  goose  egg  and 
another  on  my  nose  as  big  as  a  whopper." 

"Quoting  J.  G.,"  laughed  Grandpa.  "Well,  they  say  bee 
sting  is  good  for  rheumatism,  and  I  believe  it  is.  It  helps  it 
right  along." 

"You  did  not  get  stung  too,  did  you?"  she  cried  anxiously. 

"Oh,  no;  just  tickled  a  little,"  he  replied.     "All  that  you 


FRIDAY    THE    THIRTEENTH.  143 

were  carrying  with  you  when  you  ran  over  me  stopped  to  make 
my  acquaintance ;  and  a  woodchuck  hole  did  the  rest.  Consider- 
ate of  you,  Nell,  to  land  me  in  that  hole.  For  now  I  don't  know 
whether  to  limp  with  my  lame  knee  or  my  shoulder." 

She  laughed,  but  stopped  at  the  sight  of  his  white  face.  "You 
are  hurt,"  she  said  compassionately,  "though  you  are  trying  to 
laugh  about  it.  That  ends  you  in  the  haying  to-day.  What  a 
goose  I  was  to  knock  you  down,  but  I  did  not  see  where  I  was 
going." 

"Neither  did  I,  but  I  felt  where,"  he  remarked  drily.  "If 
Manning  will  lend  a  hand,  as  I  don't  know  which  leg  to  limp  on, 
I'll  go  to  the  house  for  repairs." 

Kenton  had  been  stirring  the  new  mown  hay  at  the  upper 
end  of  the  lot.  Racing  to  see  what  the  trouble  was  about  he  ran 
into  the  corner  where  Grandpa  had  dropped  the  scythe,  and  a 
howl  from  him  caused  Nell  to  forget  her  pain.  He  had  stepped 
on  the  scythe,  and  was  holding  up  his  bare  foot,  from  which  the 
blood  was  streaming  from  an  ugly  gash.  She  started  toward 
him  running,  Grandpa  following  as  fast  as  he  could.  "I'm  dead," 
he  screamed,  "I'm  bleeding  to  death,  and  I'll  die  before  you  get 
here." 

"Be  quiet,"  she  called,  "you  are  a  pretty  surgeon  to  make  a 
fuss  over  a  little  blood.  Can't  you  see  you  have  not  cut  an 
artery?" 

"You  don't  know  what  I  have  cut,"  he  sobbed,  "you  can't 
feel  it;  and  besides  it  hurts  worse  when  it  is  my  own  blood  than 
as  if  it  was  somebody's  else." 

"Very  likely,"  she  replied,  examining  the  foot.  "Well,  that 
lets  you  out  this  morning,"  she  said  as  she  tore  up  her  handker- 
chief and  bound  up  the  gash.  "Why  didn't  you  look  where  you 
were  going?  Now  you  will  have  to  go  with  Grandpa  to  the 
house.  Lucille  will  think  she  has  a  hospital  on  her  hands.  You 
let  her  put  a  plaster  of  shoemaker's  wax  on  that  cut,  and  it  won't 
be  sore  to-morrow." 

"I  won't  have  it  on,"  he  cried.  "She  will  put  it  on  so  hot  she 
will  burn  the  rest  of  my  foot  to  a  blister." 


144  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

"Yes,  you  will,"  she  said  firmly.  "Manning  is  going  right 
back  to  the  house,  and  he  will  tell  Lucille.  If  you  make  a  fuss, 
young  man,  you  won't  get  your  saw  I  promised  you  for  to-day's 
work." 

"The  ambulance  is  ready,"  said  Manning  walking  up,  "but 
I  don't  see  how  I  can  take  more  than  one  cripple  at  a  time.  You 
are  in  need  of  a  stretcher,  too,  Nell." 

"Not  much,"  she  laughed,  "but  if  the  wasps  get  after  me  again 
I  shall  be.  You  help  Grandpa,  and  I  guess  Kenton  can  hobble  on 
one  foot,  if  he  only  thinks  so." 

Returning  to  the  machine  she  began  mowing  again,  but  the 
horses  were  uneasy;  they  had  been  more  frightened  than  hurt, 
but  steering  clear  of  the  danger  spot  she  circled  the  field  once 
and  partly  again  before  Manning  returned. 

"I  could  not  make  Carlos  come,"  he  called.  "He  was  busy 
harnessing  the  old  gobbler  to  the  express  wagon,  and  he  would 
not  mind  either  Grandpa  or  me." 

"But  did  not  Lucille  tell  him  to  come?"  she  said  vexedly. 
"He  has  got  to  take  Kenton's  place,  and  where  is  Madaline  ?" 

"She;  oh,  in  some  old  book  as  usual,"  he  answered  uncon- 
cernedly. "I  told  her  that  you  needed  her,  and  Lucille  said  she 
had  got  to  have  her,  herself.  What  with  having  to  leave  her 
ironing  to  bathe  Grandpa's  shoulder  and  put  the  plaster  on  Ken- 
ton's  foot — he  howled  like  the  dickens  and  she  slapped  him  good, 
I  tell  you — she  was  not  going  to  spare  Madaline;  and  the  last  I 
knew  Madaline  was  having  to  iron  her  clothing  if  they  were 
ironed  at  all." 

Nell  laughed.  "Poor  Lucille.  Well,  she  can  have  Madaline 
this  morning,  but  I  have  got  to  have  Carlos.  You  go  back  and 
tell  him  to  come  if  he  knows  when  he  is  well  off.  I  have  lost 
time  enough  this  morning  without  any  more  bother." 

Things  proceeded  smoothly  after  the  boys  had  buckled  down 
to  work.  Carlos  was  as  unwilling  as  he  could  possibly  be,  but 
Manning  did  the  best  he  could.  It  was  fun  to  use  Grandpa's 
scythe  and  mow  out  the  corners  and  around  the  stones  where 
the  machine  could  not  go,  and  he  was  proud  of  his  skill  in  mow- 


FRIDAY    THE    THIRTEENTH.  145 

ing  with  the  long  waving  stroke  which  his  grandfather  had 
taught  him.  But  as  noon  time  drew  near  he  grew  hungrier  and 
hungrier.  Lucille  was  cooking  a  capital  dinner,  and  he  kept 
turning  his  head,  listening  for  the  sound  of  the  conch  shell.  He 
turned  it  once  too  often,  and  his  hand  following  his  eye,  brought 
the  scythe  through  a  bush  crowning  a  little  eminence,  and  the 
keen  long  blade  cut  straight  through  a  nest  of  white-faced 
hornets,  and  the  whole  swarm,  like  a  furious  army,  rushed  out 
upon  him  and  luckless  Carlos,  who  was  stirring  hay  in  his  rear. 
Even  poor  Teddy,  who  was  at  Carlos'  heels,  came  in  for  his 
share,  and  after  a  few  frantic  rollings  and  pawings  rushed  howl- 
ing to  the  river.  Above  the  clatter  of  the  machine  Nell  heard 
the  yells  and  howls  of  the  boys  and  dog,  and  throwing  the 
machine  out  of  gear,  she  leaped  from  the  seat  and  hastened  to 
meet  the  boys,  who  were  racing  in  her  direction  pursued  by  a 
cloud  of  vengeful  insects. 

"Holy  Moses!"  yelled  Manning,  struggling  to  pull  his  shirt 
up  over  his  head  without  first  unbuttoning  it. '  "There  are  a 
thousand  of  these  imps  up  my  sleeve  and  I  can't  get  my  shirt  off !" 

"And  they've  gone  down  the  back  of  my  neck!"  shrieked 
Carlos,  dancing  frantically  up  and  down  and  tearing  at  his  shirt 
till  it  parted  company  with  his  neck  band.  "Manning  struck  that 
nest  on  purpose,  so  I'd  get  stung." 

"If  he  did  he  got  the  worst  of  it,"  said  Nell,  "for  he  has  been 
stung  between  the  eyes.  Now,  don't  cry,  but  let  me  rub  that 
lotion,  quick.  Where  is  it?" 

"I  left  it  at  the  house,"  he  sobbed,  jerking  off  the  shirt  which 
Nell  had  unbuttoned.  "I  bet  they  stung  my  neck  in  a  hundred 
places.  They're  worse  than  red-hot  needles." 

She  sent  both  boys  scampering  to  the  house ;  they  went  howl- 
ing at  the  top  of  their  voices  while  she  followed  with  the  team. 
When  she  had  stabled  the  horses  she  went  in  the  house  to  find 
Madaline  taking  up  the  dinner  and  Lucille  laughing  over  her 
hospital.  Grandpa  was  so  crippled  he  could  hardly  move;  Ken- 
ton  could  only  hobble  on  one  foot;  Manning's  eyes  were  so 
swollen  that  he  could  scarcely  see,  and  poor  little  Carlos'  legs 


146  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

and  back  were  peppered  with  swollen  stings.  So  there  was  no 
one  to  go  back  to  the  field  with  Nell  but  Madaline,  for  Lucille, 
with  her  duties  as  housekeeper  and  nurse,  never  thought  of 
offering  her  assistance. 

It  had  been  a  perfect  morning  for  drying  out  the  hay,  and 
Nell  was  very  anxious  to  get  in  all  that  she  could,  for  a  storm 
was  predicted  for  that  night,  and  she  was  weatherwise  enough 
to  know  by  the  signs  that  all  the  hay  that  was  down  would  be 
apt  to  get  wet  before  morning. 

For  the  first  two  hours  Madaline  rode  the  horse  rake  and  Nell 
made  the  tumbles;  then  the  team  was  harnessed  to  the  hay  cart 
and  Madaline  commenced  building  the  load  as  Nell  pitched.  Bob, 
whizzing  by  in  his  automobile,  raised  his  hand  to  them,  but  did 
not  stop.  He  was  going  to  the  ball  game,  and  if  Nell  was 
foolish  enough  to  do  the  work  instead  of  hiring  it  done,  why  let 
her,  that  was  all.  He  had  a  half  holiday  and  was  going  to 
enjoy  it. 

The  sun  was  intensely  hot  as  the  afternoon  lengthened  and 
the  thunder  heads  began  to  appear  in  the  north.  Nell,  with  her 
round  brown  arms  bare  nearly  to  the  shoulders,  and  showing  to 
perfection  the  firm  farm  muscle  she  had  acquired  by  constant 
labor,  worked  on  steadily,  while  her  young  sister  built  up  the 
load  with  the  skill  of  a  veteran  hay  maker.  Steadily  it  piled 
higher  and  higher  until  Nell  attacked  the  last  tumble  for  that 
load.  Balancing  a  large  forkful  high  above  her  head,  she  sent 
it  dexterously  to  its  place  on  the  load  and  was  forking  up  another 
when  a  shriek  from  Madaline  caused  her  to  look  up  in  time  to 
see  the  girl  leap  from  the  high  load  to  the  ground,  followed  by 
a  hissing  flat-headed  adder.  It  was  the  work  of  an  instant  to  dis- 
patch the  snake,  then  she  turned  to  Madaline,  who  was  sobbing 
from  pain  and  fright  while  holding  on  to  her  ankle. 

"I  know  it  is  broken,"  she  wailed.  "I  felt  the  bones  snap 
when  I  struck  the  ground  and  it  is  all  your  fault.  You  had  no 
business  to  throw  that  awful  snake  up  at  me  when  you  know  how 
afraid  I  am  of  them,  and  of  everything  that  crawls." 

Nell  examined  the  ankle  and  found  that  it  was  only  wrenched, 


FRIDAY    THE    THIRTEENTH.  147 

though  Madaline  was  sure  that  she  was  almost  killed.  After  a 
deal  of  bother  she  got  the  girl  up  on  Dora's  back  and  mounting 
the  load  herself  she  drove  up  the  lane  to  the  barn,  half  expecting 
that  the  wagon  would  break  down,  or  a  wheel  run  off,  to  add  to 
the  chapter  of  accidents.  "I  told  you  it  was  not  safe  to  work 
on  Friday  the  I3th,"  said  Madaline  as  she  limped  into  the  hos- 
pital." 

Bob,  early  in  the  season,  had  paid  for  a  hayfork,  so  with 
Lucille's  help  she  succeeded  in  mowing  away  the  hay  without 
any  further  mishap.  Then  she  returned  to  the  field,  as  her 
sister  was  needed  in  the  house  to  care  for  the  afflicted.  It  was 
hard  work  to  do  the  pitching  and  build  the  load  herself,  but 
she  had  brought  a  short  ladder  from  the  barn  and  by  climbing  up 
and  down  she  succeeded'  in  building  the  load  fairly  well.  But 
the  thunders  were  muttering  in  the  distance  and  the  clouds  dark- 
ening long  before  half  of  her  load  was  made.  She  worked  des- 
perately till  suddenly  startled  by  a  gay  voice,  and  Dallas  Gordon, 
daintily  dressed  in  white,  was  smiling  at  her.  "I  was  going  over 
to  Mrs.  Jackson's,"  she  exclaimed,  "but  caught  sight  of  you  here 
alone.  So  I  drove  down  to  the  bars.  What  has  become  of  the 
rest  of  this  hive  of  B's?  And  if  you  are  doing  this  all  alone 
you  must  let  me  help.  I  can  load  hay  as  well  as  anybody.  I  do 
it  every  Summer  at  Grandpa's." 

She  was  at  work  on  the  load  before  Nell  had  finished  explain- 
ing the  chapter  of  accidents  which  had  befallen  the  family.  "It 
must  be  some  punishment  for  my  sins,"  she  said  laughingly. 
"You  know  the  innocent  always  suffer  with  the  guilty.  So  look 
out,  Miss  Gordon.  You  don't  know  what  will  happen  to  you." 

"I'll  risk  everything  but  snakes,"  she  returned.  "I'm  afraid 
if  I  see  one  coming  I  shall  jump  higher  than  Madaline  did.  But 
pitch  away,  for  the  storm  will  catch  us,  sure  as  fate,  unless  we 
hurry." 

Up  went  the  tumbles  sent  by  Nell's  strong  arms.  The  girl 
was  a  capital  builder,  and  entered  into  the  fun  of  the  thing  as 
she  worked.  Finally  the  last  was  put  on,  but  as  the  storm  was 
threatening,  it  was  not  tramped  down  as  it  should  be,  and  as 


148  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

the  horses  pulled  the  high  load  onto  the  barn  floor  to  escape  the 
first  heavy  drops,  off  went  the  end  of  the  load,  blocking  up  the 
door. 

Bob  had  just  returned  from  the  game.  He  was  not  in  very 
good  humor,  for  he  had  bet  on  the  game  and  had  lost.  He  had 
run  his  machine  into  the  garage  he  had  built,  and  feeling  ashamed 
of  himself  for  leaving  the  work  on  Nell  had  started  to  the  barn 
to  care  for  the  horses.  The  mass  of  hay  blocking  the  door 
irritated  him.  Thinking  it  was  Madaline's  work  he  said  irritably 
that  he  should  think  that  Madcap  could  have  done  a  better  job 
than  that,  or  not  tried  to  have  done  anything. 

"Who  are  you  calling  Madcap?"  a  clear  voice  answered  him, 
and  Miss  Gordon  stepped  from  behind  the  horses  which  Nell  was 
unharnessing.  "I  built  that  load,  if  you  please  sir.  I  do  not 
know  who  you  are,  but  it  is  my  opinion  that  if  you  know  where 
Bob  Beverly  is  you  ought  to  go  and  tell  him  that  it  is  his  place 
to  help  his  sister." 

Bob  stepped  back  in  astonishment.  He  did  not  know  who 
she  was,  and  he  resented  her  tone.  "I  do  not  know  who  you  are," 
he  said  stiffly,  "but  I  thought  I  was  speaking  to  my  sister." 

"Then  you  are  Bob,"  she  exclaimed  in  surprise.  "Well,  I 
won't  apologize  for  what  I  said  anyway.  I  think  you  ought  to 
help  your  sister.  I  don't  think  much  of  a  young  man  who  will 
go  rooting  after  a  ball  game  and  let  his  sister  pitch  hay  and 
wasps  and  snakes  and  things,"  she  added,  growing  confused,  for 
Bob's  look  of  amazement  was  changing  to  one  of  admiration.  "I 
am  Miss  Gordon." 

Bob  took  off  his  cap  and  bowed.  "I  appreciate  your  criticism, 
Miss  Gordon,"  he  said  gallantly.  "And  probably  I  deserve  it. 
But  the  truth  is  nobody  can  farm  to  suit  Nell.  I  could  not  suit 
her  if  I  tried." 

"You  are  unjust,"  flashed  the  girl.  "I  suited  her,  and  if  I 
did  you  can.  Besides  you  don't  know  how  she  has  worked  to-day 
after  getting  stung." 

"She  is  not  the  only  one  who  got  stung,"  he  remarked  laugh- 
ingly, "I  did  and  badly  at  the  game.  But,"  as  Nell  appeared 


FRIDAY    THE    THIRTEENTH.  149 

around  the  load,  "I  shall  engage  a  man  to  finish  this  haying  and 
pay  him  each  day.     How  much  more  is  there  to  do  ?" 

"About  two  days  if  the  wasps  are  not  too  thick,"  she  answered 
drily.  "I  appreciate  your  generosity,  Bob."  She  tried  to  hide 
her  sarcasm,  but  he  noticed  it  and  flushed.  "I  see  you  have  met 
Miss  Gordon.  If  it  had  not  been  for  her — " 

"She  would  have  been  drowned  in  the  hayfield,"  interrupted 
the  girl.  "Hear  it  rain.  I  suppose  some  one  has  taken  care  of 
my  horses  ?"  she  cried  in  sudden  alarm. 

"I  saw  Grandpa  and  Carlos  putting  the  carriage  in  the  shed," 
he  replied.  "No,  there  is  no  danger,  Miss  Gordon,"  as  the  girl 
screamed  with  terror  at  a  terrific  peal  of  thunder.  "You  are 
screaming  too  late.  We  won't  get  much  of  this  storm.  It  is 
going  around  us  I  think." 

His  predictions  did  not  prove  exactly  true,  for  the  storm 
kept  them  prisoners  in  the  barn  for  over  half  an  hour  before  it 
lulled  sufficiently  for  them  to  run  to  the  house.  Nell  listened 
amusedly  to  their  conversation.  Bob,  who  had  never  talked 
with  a  girl  five  minutes  if  he  could  help  it,  was  making  himself 
positively  charming.  Nell  did  not  know  that  he  could  talk  and 
appear  as  well.  She  began  to  grow  proud  of  his  good  looks,  of 
his  ease  and  polish  and  of  his  intelligence.  Miss  Gordon  had  a 
brother  in  the  Philippines  and  by  the  time  they  could  go  to  the 
house  she  and  Bob  were  conversing  like  old  friends. 

All  of  Lucille's  patients  were  improving,  but  as  the  storm 
continued  till  late  in  the  evening  Nell  insisted  that  Dallas  should 
spend  the  night  there.  Mrs.  Jackson  was  not  expecting  her, 
although  her  mother  would  think  she  was  with  her;  so  she  was 
as  well  off  at  the  Beverly's  as  any  other  place.  And  Dallas  was 
nothing  loth.  All  her  life  she  had  been  petted  and  courted,  both 
for  her  own  and  her  family's  sake,  but  never  had  she  met  a 
young  man  who  interested  her  as  did  handsome  Bob  Beverly. 
She  had  been  prejudiced  against  him;  wrongfully  she  thought. 
She  repented  of  having  flashed  at  him  in  the  barn.  Of  course 
he  would  pay  for  the  work  being  done  if  Nell  would  let  him. 
Besides  he  could  talk  well — had  traveled  and  knew  her  brother. 


150  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

It  was  her  duty  to  be  pleasant  to  him,  and  the  evening  was  gone 
before  she  was  aware  of  the  passing  hours. 

They  had  been  obliged  to  re-arrange  the  sleeping  accommoda- 
tions that  night.  Bob,  who  really  had  the  spare  room  of  the 
house,  gave  it  up  gladly  to  Lucille  and  Miss  Gordon.  Nell 
retired  to  the  little  boys'  room  with  Madaline,  and  the  four 
brothers  occupied  the  girls'  room.  Lucille  soon  dropped  asleep, 
but  Miss  Gordon  was  restless  and  her  slumbers  were  light. 

She  had  so  much  to  think  about.  Bob's  dark  eyes,  winning 
smile  and  bewitching  dimple  figured  in  her  dreams.  She  roused 
suddenly  as  the  squawk  of  a  hen  fell  on  her  ears.  She  was 
dreaming  that  the  Moros  were  after  Bob.  She  listened  intently. 
There  were  other  sounds  of  disturbance  in  the  poultry  yard.  She 
spoke  to  Lucille  who  woke  with  a  start.  "There  are  thieves 
after  my  hens  again,"  she  said  wrathfully,  "and  I  am  going  to 
catch  them.  Joe  Green  was  telling  how  every  one  of  Smith's 
were  stolen  the  other  night. 

"I'll  help  you,"  said  Dallas,  entering  into  the  spirit  of  the 
thing;  "there  is  nothing  meaner  than  a  chicken  thief.  But  what 
are  you  going  to  do?" 

"Get  dressed  first,"  said  Lucille  hustling  out  of  bed.  "We 
won't  light  the  lamp.  Can  you  see  to  dress  in  the  dark?  Put 
on  this  wrapper  of  mine.  We  are  just  the  same  size.  Slip  on 
your  shoes.  There,  are  you  ready?  I  know  they  are  getting  all 
my  Rhode  Island  Reds.  Joe  says  they  go  to  the  houses,  bag 
them  up,  carry  them  to  a  team  and  drive  away.  It  is  probably 
somebody  going  to  take  them  to  Winthrop.  I  shan't  wait  to 
wake  Bob  or  the  boys.  It  would  take  too  long.  Oh,  listen!" 
she  cried  agonizedly  as  another  squawk  came  to  her  ears.  "Do 
let's  hurry!" 

"I'm  ready,"  and  Dallas  tiptoed  after  her  guide  out  into  the 
east  entry,  where  Lucille  silently  unbolted  the  outside  door.  Like 
ghosts  in  the  pale  light  they  flitted  into  the  barnyard  and  to  the 
henhouse.  Lucille  had  brought  Bob's  revolver,  and  she  held  it 
bravely  ready  to  shoot  if  necessary.  She  unfastened  the  door 


FRIDAY    THE    THIRTEENTH.  151 

and  looked  in.  The  roosts  were  empty,  but  her  strained  ear 
caught  the  sound  of  wheels  driving  rapidly  away. 

"We  will  take  my  horse  and  go  after  them,"  cried  Dallas. 
"I'll  help  you  harness.  Kit  can  pass  anything  on  the  road." 

The  astonished  Kit  was  hurried  out  of  her  stable  and  into  her 
harness  in  double-quick  time  and  the  desperate  girls  drove  out 
of  the  yard  on  a  dead  run  in  pursuit  of  the  chicken  thieves.  In 
their  haste  they  had  not  heard  Bob  call  to  them,  but  as  they 
tore  down  the  road  he  was  getting  his  machine  ready  to  follow. 
The  wide  open  henhouse  door  had  given  him  the  clue,  and  he 
was  not  many  minutes  behind.  He  arrived  just  as  the  girls  had 
overtaken  a  rapidly  driven  buggy  and  Lucille  had  commanded 
the  driver  to  stop  or  she  would  shoot. 

The  buggy  had  stopped  so  suddenly  that  Kit's  nose  had 
bumped  into  the  top.  "You  give  me  back  my  chickens  this 
minute  or  I  will  shoot,"  cried  Lucille  springing  fearlessly  out. 
"I  have  caught  you,  you  miserable  chicken  thief." 

"Chicken  thief!"  an  indignant  voice  answered.  "I'm  no 
chicken  thief,"  and  Norval  Dixson  sprang  to  the  ground.  "If  it 
isn't  Topsy !"  he  ejaculated.  "Topsy  in  the  chimney!  Have  you 
gone  crazy?" 

Bob's  machine  put  its  nose  even  with  Kit's  head.  Dallas  was 
shrieking  with  laughter,  accompanying  Norval,  who  was  rolling 
on  the  wet  ground  in  a  paroxysm  of  joy.  To  be  taken  for  a 
chicken  thief  in  the  dead  of  night  when  he  was  returning  on  an 
errand  for  his  father  with  medicine  was  too  rich ;  and  to  be  chased 
by  two  determined  girls  was  still  better.  But  Lucille  did  not  see 
any  fun  in  it.  Her  chickens  were  gone,  and  if  Norval  had  not 
taken  them,  who  had?  The  four  held  a  council  of  war  and  then 
Bob  and  Norval  started  on  their  clue,  after  the  team  which  had 
preceded  the  young  man,  while  the  girls  returned  home. 

They  did  not  wake  Nell,  and  she  knew  nothing  of  it  till  day- 
light, when  Bob  came  triumphantly  home.  With  his  auto  he  had 
captured  the  thieves  and  recovered  the  chickens.  No  wonder 
that  Dallas  regarded  him  as  a  hero,  and  Lucille,  too,  had  her  own 
thoughts  about  the  doctor's  son,  but  she  kept  them  to  herself. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  ELECTION. 

West  Winthrop  had  its  blood  unusually  stirred  when  the  news 
was  excitedly  passed  from  one  to  another  that  Sarepta  Barry 
was  married.  Her  high-handed  policy  of  collecting  her  brother's 
bills  and  of  running  his  business  had  ended  but  one  way.  All  of 
the  trade  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  obliging  Thompson. 
Disgusted  with  the  business  she  was  glad  to  sell  out  to  him,  as 
her  brother  was  never  coming  back.  The  townspeople  had  sor- 
rowed at  the  news,  and  many  carried  flowers  to  the  cemetery 
and  placed  them  by  the  monument  which  Sarepta  erected  in  his 
memory;  and  there  were  not  a  few  that  said  openly,  what  all 
thought — that  it  was  a  pity  he  had  been  the  one  to  go.  And  he 
had  no  more  sincere  mourners  than  the  Beverlys. 

It  was  a  year  later  that  she  married  John  King,  the  richest 
and  most  hated  man  in  West  Winthrop.  Joe  Green  brought  the 
news  to  Nell.  He  found  her  hard  at  work  in  her  strawberry 
bed  on  an  October  day,  bedding  it  down  for  the  Winter.  "There," 
she  said  straightening  up,  when'  he  called  to  her  from  his  favorite 
seat  on  the  stone  wall,  "I  think  I  have  provided  enough  warm 
blankets  to  keep  my  berry  vines  from  being  winter-killed,  and 
insure  a  big  yield  next  season.  There  is  nothing  like  being  pro- 
vided for  emergencies,  Joe." 

"Looks  as  if  you  was  taking  him  by  the  wig,"  he  observed; 
"that's  what  King  John  has  done.  He  has  took  time  by  the  wig, 
or  time  has  took  him,  whichever  way  you  want  to  look  at  it ;  and 
it  is  even  bettin'  that  somebody  will  git  bossed ;  f er  two  sech  mean 
critters  won't  pull  peaceable  in  the  same  harness." 

"Whatever  are  you  talking  about?"  said  the  girl  in  bewilder- 
ment. "What  wig  has  King  John  got  hold  of  now?  I  thought 
he  had  one  of  his  own." 

"Got  two  now,"  answered  the  man  laconically.  "Married 
Sarepta  Barry  yesterday  over  in  Winthrop."  He  waited  for  Nell 


THE    ELECTION.  153 

to  digest  the  news.  "I  tell  folks  that  'long  as  he  had  killed  two 
wives  it  is  his  turn  to  git  killed.  The  fust  two  saved  and 
scrimped  to  help  git  along,  and  that  way  he  made  his  pile.  Don't 
believe  thar  was  much  love  lost  when  he  married  Sarepta." 

"Two  of  a  kind,"  she  answered.  "The  Lord  will  have  to  pity 
anybody  that  is  in  debt  to  either  of  them.  What  he  can't  think  of 
that  is  grasping,  she  can.  But  who  would  have  thought  anybody 
would  ever  want  her,  or  him  either?  Well,  I  wish  them  joy." 

"I  don't,"  said  Joe.  "I  hope  all  the  mean  things  that  both  on 
'em  hev  ever  done  will  come  back,  and  .quick,  too.  Saw  him  as 
smilin'  as  you  please  on  the  hill  to-day.  You  bet  he's  figgerin'  to 
git  sent  as  Representative  at  the  carkus  this  Fall." 

"He !"    Nell's  tone  was  contemptuous.    "I  don't  believe  it." 

"You  may  have  to,"  he  returned  soberly.  "Folks  hev  to 
believe  lots  uv  things.  Money  goes  a  long  ways  nowadays.  He's 
got  half  the  town  in  his  vest  pocket  now,  and  Sarepta  has  got 
most  of  the  t'other;  and  'tween  them  two  'pressors  this  town  is 
likely  ter  git  a  purty  hard  squeeze.  I  hear  a  good  deal,  more'n 
most  men,  I  tell  you." 

"You  do,"  she  agreed.  "I  don't  see  how  you  find  out  so 
much." 

Joe  scented  a  compliment.  "Wall,  folks  tell  me  things  'cause 
they  know  I  don't  tell  'em  agin',"  he  grinned.  "Wall,  I  must  be 
a  hikin'  towards  hum.  Looks  as  though  you  would  git  a  lot  of 
berries  next  year.  But  a  berry  patch  is  suthin'  like  me.  It  gets 
hold  uv  a  lot  uv  stuff,  but  it  don't  give  it  all  out;  there's  allus 
more  blossoms  than  berries.  That's  the  way  with  the  news  I 
git;  folks  ain't  afraid  to  tell  me  things,  fer  whatever  I  git 
hold  of  is  bottled." 

"That  is  true,"  Nell  declared  laughingly.    "It  is." 

Joe  looked  at  her  a  little  doubtfully.  He  surmised  a  possible 
meaning  that  did  not  exactly  suit.  "Wall,  I  hope  you  will  suc- 
ceed with  your  berries,"  he  added  as  he  left  the  wall. 

"Thank  you.  I  think  I  will  if  determination  counts  for  any- 
thing. The  times  it  failed  almost  drove  me  wild.  I  needed  the 
money  so  dreadfully  that  I  was  desperate  about  the  failures.  But 


154  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

I  learned  from  hard  experience  that  I  had  not  given  it  either 
proper  care,  cultivation  or  fertilizing.  A  trip  to  a  model  straw- 
berry farm  taught  me  a  lot  of  things.  It  has  to  be  enriched  by 
top-dressing,  be  cultivated  thoroughly  and  pruned,  too.  In 
fact  nobody  knows  the  cost  of  a  basket  of  berries  but  the  'Man 
with  the  Hoe.'  It  is  like  everything  else.  Hard  work  will  bring 
success,  and  nothing  else  will." 

"I  dunno,"  he  disagreed.  "It  seems  ter  me  as  ef  bein'  schemin' 
and  tricky  brings  the  most  success  in  this  town.  Look  at  King 
John — at  all  the  mean  things  he's  done  ter  git  ahead  and  see 
whar  he  is  now.  Got  more  money  than  any  ten  other  men  in 
town,  and  see  Sarepta!  How  rich  she  is!  No,  I  don't  believe 
that  hard  work  is  the  best  thing.  A  man  can't  git  an  honest 
livin'  nowadays  without  cheatin'  and  lyin'.  Leastways  that's  the 
way  all  these  honest  fellers  git  ahead." 

"Do  you  include  Searls  in  your  category?"  she  inquired. 

"Dunno  nothin'  about  that  kind  of  a  cat,"  he  returned  hon- 
estly, "but  ef  you  want  to  know  ef  I  think  Searls  has  got  ahead 
by  lyin'  and  cheatin'  I'll  say  straight  out  that  he  haint.  He  tells 
the  truth  about  everything  that  is  in  sight.  Ef  you  don't  ask  the 
proper  question,  'taint  no  fault  of  his'n.  He'll  stand  frum  mornin' 
till  night  ef  he  thinks  there  is  a  dollar  in  it,  in  order  to  swap  a 
cowcumber  fer  a  shoestring.  He  tells  the  truth  as  far  as  he 
goes,  but  sometimes  he  don't  go  as  far  as  the  truth.  But  he 
ain't  no  rag  on  every  bush,  as  Bob  is." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  questioned  sharply. 

Joe  Green  shifted  uneasily.  "Not  much  of  anythin',  but  I 
have  heard  that  Bob  is  fishin'  fer  the  nomination  this  Fall.  There 
is  likely  ter  be  hot  times  at  the  carkus,  ef  I  know  anything 
about  it." 

"But  what  has  Bob  got  to  do  about  it?"  she  persisted.  "You 
must  tell  me,  Joe.  I  have  a  right  to  know." 

He  returned  to  his  seat  on  the  stone  wall.  "Wall,  as  long  as 
I  let  drop  a  word  I  might  as  well  finish  it.  You  know  there  is  a 
ring  within  a  ring  in  this  here  town.  The  men  who  want  orfis 
turribly  bad  fix  it  up  atween  themselves.  Jones  wants  ter  be  fust 


THE    ELECTION.  155 

selectman.  So  he  tells  Searls,  who  is  fust  now,  that  he  will  sup- 
port him  fer  the  place,  ef  he  will  help  him  ter  git  to  be  selectman. 
Somebody  else  tells  Searls  that  he  will  support  him  if  Searls 
will  help  him  ter  the  job  two  years  from  now.  Somebody  else 
sez  he'll  boost  Searls  ef  he  can  go  in  six  years,  and  so  on.  It  is 
a  sort  of  game  in  both  parties.  And  it  is  allus  nip  and  tuck  as 
to  which  side  kin  buy  the  most  votes,  so  as  ter  git  the  chanst  ter 
go  to  the  city  fer  the  Winter.  No  man  as  fer's  I  ever"  saw  has 
went  thare  but  thet  made  money,"  he  chuckled.  "Three  hundred 
a  year  gits  stretched  a  long  way  that's  bein'  arned  in  the  capital," 
he  insinuated. 

"How  do  you  know  so  much  about  this  ?"  she  asked  pointedly. 
"I  want  to  know  about  Bob." 

"That  is  what  I  am  gettin'  at.  Searls'  chanst  has  come  now 
ter  go.  It  was  all  fixed  up  some  six  or  eight  years  ago  that  this 
year  he  should  play  trumps.  He  has  follered  suit  long  enough. 
Now  Searls  ain't  so  mighty  popular  as  he  might  be.  Folks  think 
he  is  a  ristycrat,  coz  he  has  went  to  colledge  and  hes  money  and 
swell  folks  visit  him  and  his  mother.  'Sides  he's  got  some  drefful 
strick  notions  which  he  won't  change  fer  nothin'  nor  nobody. 
Agin,  his  party  ain't  the  strongest  in  town.  'Tother  side  will 
nominate  King.  Dassen't  do  nothin'  else !  Fer  all  the  voters  he 
hain't  got  hold  on,  why  Sarepta  has.  Then  there's  us  floaters, 
who  allers  wait  ter  see  how  fur  the  cat  kin  jump  afore  we  let 
go  uv  the  bag.  Some  on  'em  wants  ter  put  an  Inderpendent 
ticket  and  Bob  sez  he'll  run.  There  ain't  nobody  could  beat  King 
but  Bob,  and  a  lot  uv  us  know  that  Searls  hain't  much  ov  a  show, 
'coz  he  won't  put  up  no  money.  Not  he.  That  is  one  uv  his  fool 
notions  that  don't  set.  Ain't  never  bought  a  vote  yit  nor  done 
a  favor  ter  pay  fer  one,  and  folks  say  it  is  time  that  a  man  that 
can't  show  the  proper  presheashun  fer  a  little  friendly  help  gets  a 
kick  or  two." 

"But  Bob  has  no  political  influence,  and  what  in  creation  does 
he  want  to  be  Representative  for?"  she  questioned  dumbfound- 
edly. 

"We  want  him  ter  beat  King,  the  old  skinflint !    And  he  wants 


156  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

ter  git  to  be  a  Rep  so  as  ter  git  the  Judge's  darter.  And  how- 
somever  you  look  at  it,  there  ain't  no  smarter  feller  than  Bob. 
He'd  be  a  credit  ter  the  town  and  the  Jedge  would  be  proud  on 
him.  Wall,  now  I've  told  yer  the  news  I'll  hike  along.  The  old 
woman  hain't  no  interest  in  politicks,  but  she  has  in  me." 

Bob  was  still  working  for  Thompson.  When  he  returned 
that  night  he  was  unusually  pleased  with  himself.  He  was  even 
patient  with  Manning's  endless  tinkering.  The  boy  was  perfect- 
ing his  automobile,  and  Bob's  mechanical  ingenuity  supplied  the 
very  things  over  which  he  had  stumbled.  But  Nell  asked  no 
questions.  She  decided  it  best  to  let  the  subject  alone.  When 
the  time  came  she  would  talk. 

Grandpa  attended  the  caucus  of  his  party,  which  was  also 
Searls'.  He  brought  back  the  word  that  there  would  be  a  hard 
fight.  King  had  promised  that  if  he  was  nominated  he  would 
remember  those  that  nominated  him;  and  if  elected  he  would 
extend  the  time  on  all  notes  that  were  in  his  possession  or  his 
wife's.  And  he  also  verified  Joe's  story  that  there  was  an  Inde- 
pendent party  in  the  field.  But  Bob  said  nothing  at  home. 

There  was  another  question  which  was  disturbing  the  people 
of  West  Winthrop.  King  owned  a  small  picturesque  lake  in  one 
part  of  the  town  which  was  in  easy  distance  of  Winthrop  and  sur- 
rounding towns.  He  had  established  a  sort  of  resort  there,  with 
a  dancing  pavilion  and  vaudeville,  including  good  boating.  He 
was  making  money,  but  the  town  was  at  a  heavy  expense  in  pro- 
viding the  necessary  police  protection  to  prevent  the  illegal  sale 
of  liquor,  and  it  was  argued  that  it  would  be  cheaper  for  the  town 
to  vote  for  license  and  have  a  saloon  opened  there  than  to  be 
constantly  fighting  the  illegal  sale  of  it.  That  was  King's  argu- 
ment, and  his  henchmen  talked  and  argued  it  both  in  and  out  of 
season.  At  last  the  requisite  number  of  voters  was  obtained  to 
sign  the  paper  to  bring  the  question  before  the  town.  Grandpa 
and  Searls  both  signed  it,  believing  that  the  better  element  would 
stamp  it  out  entirely. 

Those  were  busy  days  for  Joe  Green.  He  was  supposed  to 
be  doing  his  own  farm  work,  but  there  was  precious  little  that 


THE    ELECTION.  157 

he  did.  When  he  could  escape  the  lash  of  the  old  woman's 
tongue  he  acted  like  a  boy  out  of  school.  He  was  out  for  a  good 
time  and  he  was  going  to  get  it. 

The  license  question  interested  him  immensely.  He  was  heart 
and  soul  in  it,  but  he  knew  better  than  to  express  his  desire  to 
Nell.  Searls  led  his  party  strong  against  it.  He  was  uncom- 
promising in  his  attitude  and  many  of  the  better  class  of  voters 
dropped  party  lines  and  stood  by  him.  But  there  was  another 
faction  to  be  reckoned  with.  King  was  for  it,  heart  and  pocket- 
book.  It  would  increase  his  revenues,  for  he  would  own  the  bar. 
The  license  he  would  pay  would  help  the  treasury,  for  the  town 
was  in  debt  and  the  taxes  were  already  heavier  than  in  other 
towns.  He  put  forth  every  effort,  even  promising  to  build  a 
stretch  of  road  at  his  own  expense  if  he  was  elected.  His  hench- 
men tried  to  enlist  all  the  floaters.  King  knew  better  than  to  go 
from  one  to  another  with  open  bribes.  In  the  face  of  Jackson's 
stern  declaration  that  not  one  cent  would  he  pay,  nor  one  promise 
would  he  make,  he  had  not  the  face  to  do  it,  but  the  hints  dropped 
in  the  ears  of  the  many  poor  people  who  in  one  way  or  another 
were  beholden  either  to  him  or  his  wife  were  surely  turning  the 
tide  in  his  favor.  Then  the  Independents  got  busy.  All  who 
had  suffered  at  the  hands  of  either  King  or  his  wife,  and  there 
were  many,  flocked  to  either  Bob  or  Searls.  But  many  of  the 
tax  payers  favored  Bob.  He  stood  for  license  as  strong  as  did 
King.  Nell  had  one  short  bitter  talk  with  him  when  she  found 
it  out.  He  had  replied  that  being  a  woman  she  was  incapable 
of  judging  what  was  for  the  best  interest  of  the  town.  If  she  had 
to  pay  the  taxes  she  would  be  glad  of  anything  which  would  help 
the  tax  payers.  She  replied  that  she  came  pretty  near  paying 
taxes  and  that  she  would  gladly  pay  twice  the  amount  rather 
than  have  a  saloon  in  the  township. 

"It  won't  hurt  you,"  he  returned,  "and  if  I  get  elected  there 
won't  be  much  danger  of  my  hanging  around  it.  Besides  I  would 
not  go  there  anyway.  It  is  not  very  sisterly  of  you  to  be  so  set 
against  my  chances.  You  know  that  I  would  never  have  accepted 
the  nomination  if  it  had  not  been  for  Dallas.  But  that  is  you  all 


158  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

over.  You  never  do  think  as  I  do,  about  anything.  You  are  as 
stubborn  as  a  mule.  You  ought  to  realize  that  Searls  has  no 
show  and  that  it  is  either  King  or  I.  And  I  flatter  myself  that  I 
am  a  better  man  than  John  King." 

Joe  was  playing  spotter  for  each  party.  Having  nothing  to 
do,  he  did  it  well.  He  made  no  secret  that  he  was  out  for  the 
most  money.  Searls'  party  knew  they  could  not  count  on  him  at 
all,  but  neither  Bob  nor  King  was  sure  of  him,  and  he  did  not 
intend  that  they  should  be.  And  there  were  some  half  dozen 
others  also,  who  were  hanging  fire  until  the  last  moment.  King 
had  no  hold  on  them,  so  it  was  for  their  interest  to  vote  for  Bob 
if  he  put  up  the  most  money,  or  for  King  if  he  did.  Bob  did 
not  have  the  money  to  use;  so  he  followed  Searls'  lead,  saying 
openly  that  he  would  not  buy  any  man's  vote.  His  show  of  virtue 
did  not  deceive  anyone,  for  along  his  daily  trips  prior  to  the 
election  he  was  passing  out  cigars  to  the  men  and  candy  to  the 
women  and  children.  He  had  promised  Nell  that  he  would  help 
her  on  a  bill,  but  after  he  began  electioneering  she  knew  that  she 
would  not  get  his  aid.  But  he  told  her  loftily  that  when  he  was 
elected  he  would  pay  up  every  obligation.  He  began  to  dream 
dreams  of  coming  political  greatness,  but  Nell  hoped  devoutly 
that  he  would  not  win.  She  knew  his  nature  too  well  to  want 
him  to  go  on  record  as  being  elected  by  the  class  that  was  uphold- 
ing him.  He  was  at  home  and  she  wanted  him  to  stay. 

Thompson  was  upholding  Bob.  He  did  not  favor  license,  but 
as  he  detested  King  and  was  on  the  opposite  party  from  Searls  he 
turned  all  his  influence  for  the  Independents.  He  hired  Joe 
Green  to  play  the  spotter  for  him  and  bring  him  news  of  any 
and  all  who  were  liable  to  leave  the  old  parties  for  a  considera- 
tion. So  Joe  spent  his  nights  in  sneaking  from  one  place  to 
another,  in  listening  under  windows  and  doing  anything  that 
opportunity  afforded  whereby  he  might  find  out  what  was  going 
on.  He  kept  his  finger,  metaphorically  speaking,  upon  the  pulse 
of  the  town,  and  every  change  in  temperature  he  was  quick  to 
notice  and  report.  As  he  was  generally  liked  he  found  out  a 
great  deal.  He  did  not  want  to  injure  Searls,  but  he  did  want 


THE    ELECTION.  159 

license.     And  as  he  wanted  Bob  to  win  he  threw  all  his  influence 
in  winning  the  floaters  to  the  Independent  column. 

Unconsciously  he  helped  Searls.  In  one  of  his  sneaking 
trips  he  overheard  a  certain  politician  high  up  in  the  State 
machine  trying  to  wheedle  a  promise  out  of  Searls;  offering  to 
turn  the  election  in  his  favor  if  he  would  do  so  and  so  when  the 
bill  came  up  that  Winter.  The  said  politician  had  left  the  barn 
in  such  a  dazed  condition  that  he  forgot  to  take  his  hat.  Searls 
had  thrown  it  after  him  with  the  remark  that  he  never  yet  had 
bartered  his  manhood  and  never  would.  Joe  had  danced  for  joy 
when  he  found  that  the  discomfited  boss  had  gone  straight  to 
King,  going  from  his  presence  with  a  smile  on  his  face.  All  of 
that  he  told  when  drinking  hard  cider  with  King's  enemies. 
"King  John,"  he  said  to  Nell,  "makes  me  think  uv  the  story  uv  the 
pig  at  hum  and  the  pup  abroad.  Ever  hear  it?  No;  wall  I  was 
tellin'  this  to  some  uv  the  boys  the  other  night,  and  they  are 
goin'  to  make  it  lively  for  the  King  'lection  day.  You  know  what 
a  dried-up  little  old  hog  King  is.  Nothin'  but  skin  and  bones. 
Five  feet  nothin'  with  the  skin  on  him  as  dried  and  wrinkled  as 
last  year's  oak  leaf.  Thar  don't  seem  to  be  room  in  him  fer  a 
heart;  nothin'  but  a  gizzard.  And  Sarepta  carries  her  heart  in 
her  stockin',  fer  that's  whar  she  keeps  her  pocket  book,  so  I've 
heered.  But  about  that  story.  The  farmer  told  Pat  to  take  a 
fat  pig  in  a  bag  and  leave  it  at  the  priest's.  So  Pat  took  the 
pig,  then  stopped  at  the  tavern  fer  a  drink,  and  the  boys  changed 
the  pig  and  put  the  pup  in  its  place.  When  Pat  got  to  the  priest's 
and  dumped  out  the  pig  as  he  supposed,  it  was  nothin'  but  a  pup. 
So  he  started  back  to  the  farmer  with  him.  When  he  got  to  the 
tavern  agin  he  stopped  fer  another  drink,  and  the  boys  swapped 
the  pig  and  pup  back  agin.  So  he  told  the  farmer  that  when  he 
got  to  the  priest's  he  had  a  pup  instead  of  a  pig;  but  when  he 
opened  the  bag  out  popped  the  pig  after  all.  'Begorra',  sez  Pat, 
'it's  a  pig  to  hum  but  a  pup  abroad/  That's  what  King  is.  He 
is  a  mean  runt  uv  a  pig  to  hum  here,  but  when  he  gits  to  the 
capital  he'll  be  a  pup.  That's  what  I'm  tellin'  the  boys,  and 
they've  fixed  up  a  box  with  a  pig  in  one  side  and  a  pup  in  the 


160  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

'tother.  Folks  won't  be  slow  in  knowin'  what's  meant.  'Course 
he  is  the  only  man  that  side's  got  that  kin  poll  any  kind  uv  a 
vote.  It  makes  me  think  uv  the  story  uv  the  farmer  that  sent 
his  green  man  arter  a  canthook.  He  cum  back  a  leadin'  the 
mooley  cow,  and  said  that  was  the  only  thing  on  the  place  that 
'can't  hook'  that  he  could  find.  And  that's  how  King  got  the 
nomination;  there  want  nobody  else  rich  enough  to  buy  voters 
but  him.  And  ef  his  money  will  do  it,  he'll  get  it.  Searls  hain't 
no  show  at  all.  So  we're  doin'  all  we  kin  to  boost  Bob,  to  down 
King." 

Never  had  West  Winthrop  been  so  stirred  as  it  was  the  few 
days  prior  to  election.  The  minister  preached  a  rousing  tem- 
perance sermon,  and  putting  his  own  personality  in  the  fore  went 
from  voter  to  voter  imploring  them  to  vote  against  license.  Hard 
cider  was  bad  enough,  but  having  a  bar  in  West  Winthrop  would 
be  of  untold  evil  to  the  young  generation  of  the  town,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  older  ones,  but  the  clutch  of  gold  which  King  had 
on  the  voters  was  stronger  than  any  arguments  the  minister  could 
make.  King  was  determined  to  go  to  the  capital  that  Winter, 
and  if  he  and  his  wife  had  money  enough  he  was  going,  that  was 
all.  And  where  money  would  not  work  he  was  sure  that  hard 
cider  would. 

Two  nights  before  election  he  gave  a  free  oyster  supper  to 
the  people  of  the  town.  Everyone  was  invited,  irrespective  of 
party.  It  was  a  sort  of  wedding  banquet,  he  told  them  blandly. 
West  Winthrop  numbered  nearly  five  hundred  people,  and  fully 
three  hundred  attended  the  supper.  Then  King  was  jubilant. 
He  felt  sure  that  he  could  count  on  at  least  forty-one  or  two  of 
the  seventy-nine  votes  of  the  town.  Searls'  party  said  nothing. 
But  the  Independents  were  stirred.  If  they  were  going  down  to 
defeat  they  would  go  as  bravely  as  possible.  So,  out  of  friend- 
ship for  Bob,  Thompson  announced  a  free  dance  for  the  next 
night,  the  night  before  election,  given  in  honor  of  the  Independent 
candidate,  Robert  Jason  Beverly. 

Thompson  was  not  rich  by  any  means,  and  none  of  the  Inde- 
pendents had  more  than  they  needed.  But  they  clubbed  together, 


THE    ELECTION.  161 

hired  the  hall  and  the  music,  and  furnished  refreshments.  It 
cost  a  good  many  dollars,  for  about  the  same  three  hundred  that 
had  attended  King's  supper  went  to  Bob's  dance.  The  next  day 
the  Independents  smiled.  They  thought  they  would  get  enough 
of  King's  votes  for  their  side  so  that  Bob  would  come  out  ahead. 
Searls  and  the  no-license  party  of  course  had  no  show. 

Election  day  was  as  mild  as  Spring,  and  the  parties  assembled 
like  contending  armies  on  the  battlefield.  Bob  was  as  anxious 
to  succeed  as  was  King,  but  for  different  reasons.  If  he  won  he 
knew  that  the  Judge  would  withdraw  all  opposition.  Then  with 
his  favor,  all  paths  would  be  open  to  him.  He  was  eloquent,  he 
knew  men,  had  traveled  and  understood  the  affairs  of  the  State. 
For  once  brains  would  go  to  the  capital  and  he  would  be  a  credit 
to  the  town,  to  himself,  to  his  family  and  to  Dallas.  Honestly 
believing  that  license  would  be  a  benefit  to  the  town  he  stood 
for  it,  though  it  was  on  that  one  point  that  Nell  hoped  he  would 
fail.  He  hardly  blamed  Nell,  for  he  was  running  against  Searls. 
Yet  he  was  hopeful,  for  he  knew  that  King  was  so  universally 
disliked  that  men  who  ate  his  bread  and  took  his  money  would 
not  hesitate  to  cast  him  down  at  the  polls.  Bob  had  not  much 
confidence  in  the  political  honesty  of  people  at  large.  It  would 
not  make  a  great  deal  of  difference  in  the  future  to  the  town's 
people  in  the  end  who  got  it,  but  it  would  make  an  awful  sight 
of  difference  to  him  if  he  failed.  So  he  put  himself  out  to  be 
agreeable,  hoping  to  win  by  the  force  of  his  personality,  for  that 
was  where  King  was  weak. 

King  had  a  barrel  of  hard  cider  in  the  meeting-house  sheds. 
He  was  the  heaviest  church  supporter,  so  no  one  protested  but  the 
minister.  It  would  have  done  no  good.  A  tent  was  erected  near 
the  townhouse  and  there  a  white-aproned  caterer  served  clam 
chowder  and  hot  coffee  to  all  who  desired ;  and  there  was  a  steady 
procession  from  the  booths  to  the  hard  cider  barrel. 

King's  wagons  were  bringing  to  the  polls  the  halt  and  the 
infirm.  From  the  poor  farm  came  half-witted  paupers,  charmed 
with  the  ride  in  the  automobile,  the  good  dinner  and  the  cider. 


162  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

Not  to  be  outdone  Thompson  had  a  gaily  decorated  tent 
near  by,  in  which  he  smilingly  treated  the  crowds  to  soft  drinks, 
cigars  and  candy,  crackers  and  cheese  and  sandwiches.  West 
Winthrop  feasted  that  day  as  it  never  had  before  on  any  election 
in  the  memory  of  that  generation,  for  never  had  there  been  so 
much  at  stake. 

Some  way  the  voting  was  not  as  rapid  as  the  candidates  had 
hoped.  A  few  of  the  floaters,  headed  by  Joe  Green,  hung  around 
the  cider  barrel.  They  were  waiting  to  see  who  would  pass  the 
most  money.  King's  henchmen  buttonholed  each  one  privately. 
A  few  went  up  and  voted,  then  sheepishly  ranged  themselves 
under  his  colors  by  feasting  on  his  good  things.  But  Joe  held 
back.  He  was  willing  to  get  all  of  King's  cash  that  he  could,  but 
he  was  going  to  vote  for  Bob  when  he  got  ready,  and  not  till  then. 
So  was  Pierre  Benoit,  and  as  the  day  wore  on  they  got  drunker 
and  drunker  and  the  leaders  on  each  side  began  to  grow  anxious. 

Dr.  Dixson  was  strong  for  Searls,  and  so  was  his  son.  The 
young  man  lacked  a  few  hours  of  being  twenty-one,  and  King  had 
contested  his  being  made  a  voter,  hence  he  bent  every  energy  to 
defeat  him.  In  his  father's  automobile  he  rode  gaily  up  and 
down  the  long  street.  His  card  was  placarded  with  the  legend: 
"A  Pig  at  Home  and  a  Pup  Abroad.  Which  is  it,  a  Saloon  and 
Bums,  or  No  License  and  a  Clean  Town."  "Vote  for  Jackson 
and  be  a  Man.  You  will  get  Thank  You  and  Nothing  Else. 
That  is  all  you  Deserve."  But  Searls  said  nothing.  In  the  popu- 
lar slang  he  was  sawing  wood. 

Finally  there  was  a  diversion.  One  of  the  old  residents  of 
the  town  was  a  lame  shoemaker,  who  kept  his  cobbler's  shop  as 
his  father  had  done  before  him,  at  his  home  near  the  lake  in 
King's  Park.  He  was  a  man  bowed  down  by  poverty  and  trouble. 
For  his  second  wife  he  had  married  a  pretty  young  woman  who 
had  one  failing,  she  could  not  let  drink  alone.  The  taste  was 
born  in  her — her  father,  a  feeble  old  man,  was  ready  to  totter 
into  a  drunkard's  grave^  but  King  had  brought  him  there  in  his 
automobile  to  vote  for  him  and  she  had  come  with  her  father  to 
care  for  him.  To  show  his  generosity  King  had  sent  his  machine 


THE    ELECTION.  163 

back  to  bring  the  cobbler  and  the  children,  though  he  knew  that 
the  man  would  vote  for  Searls.  Jackson  would  not  get  it  any- 
way, and  that  one  vote  would  help  him  indirectly,  for  it  would 
weaken  Bob ;  and  of  him  he  was  a  little  afraid. 

The  woman  had  gone  with  her  father  to  the  hard  cider  barrel. 
A  taste  of  it  had  been  enough.  One  glass  had  lead  to  another, 
and  by  the  time  the  cobbler  arrived  the  poor  young  woman  was 
in  a  maudlin  condition.  She  had  staggered  to  the  church  steps 
and  was  singing  to  a  crowd  of  jeering  men  and  boys  who  had 
collected  around  her — all  of  them  more  or  less  drunk,  for  King's 
cider  had  been  full  of  "sticks." 

"This  is  number  one,  drink  her  down. 

This  is  number  one,  drink  her  down. 

This  is  number  one,  and  we're  bound  to  have  some  fun, 

Drink  her  down,  drink  her  down,  drink  her  down." 

Her  husband  limped  through  the  crowd,  then  drew  away  sick 
at  heart.  The  baby  in  his  arms  cried  for  its  mother,  and  the 
little  girl,  hardly  understanding  put  the  child  in  her  arms.  The 
baby  smiled  through  his  tears ;  and  the  sight  of  his  innocent  happi- 
ness caused  one  or  two  men  to  turn  away  sick  at  heart.  She 
grabbed  the  child  rather  roughly,  and  unheeding  his  cries  held 
him  upside  down  in  her  arms  as  if  nursing  him  and  sang  on 
thickly,  while  the  little  girl  screamed  with  fright  and  the  baby 
wailed  in  hungry  amazement. 

"This  is  number  two,  drink  her  down. 

This  is  number  two,  drink  her  down. 

This  is  number  two,  and  we  are  bound  to  see  her  through. 

This  is  number  two,  drink  her  down." 

The  father  pressed  through  the  crowd  which  was  growing 
silent  in  its  disgust  and  pity.  He  picked  up  the  wailing  child  and 
held  it  to  his  sunken  breast,  while  his  gray  hair  waved  in  the  light 
wind  and  the  tears  raced  down  his  thin  cheeks. 

"Men,"  he  said  huskily,  "shall  there  be  a  saloon  in  the  Park?" 


164  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

The  crowd  melted  away.  Those  who  had  not  voted  went 
directly  to  the  polls.  Joe  Green  cast  his  final  vote,  then  maudlin 
with  drink,  curled  up  in  the  sheds  "to  die"  he  said.  But  when 
the  votes  were  counted  that  night  Jackson  had  won  by  three  votes 
and  no  license  was  assured. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

HOW  BOB  MADE  GOOD. 

Bob  had  come  in  second  on  the  election,  so  he  was  not  greatly 
aggrieved  over  his  failure.  He  had  polled  more  votes  than  John 
King,  and  that  delighted  him.  He  talked  of  entering  politics 
again  in  two  years  himself,  when  he  would  not  be  a  rival  of 
Searls.  Considering  that  the  best  people  of  the  town  stood  as  a 
unit  against  license  he  was  not  sorry,  after  all,  that  his  side  had 
failed.  He  would  not  really  have  relished  being  pointed  out  at 
the  capitol  as  having  been  elected  by  the  license  element  of  the 
town. 

He  made  a  good  fight,  and  the  Judge  congratulated  him. 
Since  his  first  meeting  with  Dallas  there  had  been  a  constant 
change  for  the  better  in  his  habits.  At  last  the  one  girl  for  him 
in  the  whole  wide  world  of  womankind  had  come  into  his  life, 
entering  it  as  a  blessing,  and  Nell  was  rejoiced.  He  knew  that 
he  was  a  hero  in  her  eyes,  from  having  successfully  routed  and 
captured  the  gang  of  chicken  thieves  which  had  been  making  the 
poultry  owners  of  both  East  and  West  Winthrop  miserable,  and 
he  wanted  to  continue  so  in  her  estimation.  That  was  the  main 
reason  that  he  had  entered  the  election  as  the  Independent  candi- 
date; but  he  found  that  she  regarded  him  as  grander  in  his 
defeat  than  if  he  had  won.  She  had  hardly  favored  his  running 
against  Searles,  but  she  rejoiced  at  his  beating  of  King. 

She  was  teaching  that  school  again  that  year,  and  she  and 
Bob  saw  a  great  deal  of  each  other.  In  every  way  she  was  trans- 
forming him.  He  was  becoming  more  and  more  patient  in  his 
home — more  considerate  of  Nell,  and  anxious  to  help  square  the 
family  with  the  world.  He  gave  up  running  his  machine  on 
account  of  the  expense,  and  started  a  bank  account  instead.  He 
effectually  controlled  his  desire  for  hard  cider,  and  "To  be  what 
Dallas  desired  him  to  be"  became  his  daily  creed. 

The  following  year  he  went  to  the  Judge,  who  listened  to  him 
kindly.  Dallas  was  his  youngest  and  his  favorite.  He  had 
never  crossed  her  in  any  desire,  and  he  would  not  now.  He 


166  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

liked  Bob  himself  immensely;  he  was  of  a  fine  old  family,  and 
the  Judge  was  far-sighted  enough  to  know  that  it  would  not 
be  many  years  before  the  Beverly  farm  would  rank  with  the  best 
in  the  country.  But  he  made  this  stipulation :  Bob  must  be  his 
own  master — not  a  hireling — before  he  would  consent  to  a  mar- 
riage. If  Bob  made  good — proved  himself  worthy  of  the  girl — 
then  he — the  Judge — would  give  his  blessing  to  the  two  and  a 
fortune  when  they  were  married.  And  he  added  the  bouquet 
that  as  unusually  talented  as  Bob  was,  it  would  not  be  long  before 
he  made  an  honorable  place  for  himself  in  the  business  world. 

There  were  two  ways  in  which  Bob  knew  he  could  distinguish 
himself.  One  was  in  raising  and  breeding  blooded  stock,  cattle 
and  horses.  He  had  a  decided  penchant  in  that  direction,  and 
the  other  was  in  the  lumber  industry.  He  knezv  timber.  His 
knowledge  of  it  was  inherent  rather  than  acquired ;  though  he 
had  spent  considerable  of  his  roving  years  in  the  lumber  woods. 
He  knew  that  if  he  was  once  started  in  the  portable  sawmill 
industry,  buying  and  cutting  off  timber  tracts,  then  reforesting 
them  after  the  fashion  of  the  German  lumbermen,  that  he  would 
coin  money.  There  was  a  big  chance  for  a  man  of  brains  in  that 
line,  and  Bob  began  to  look  for  an  opportunity. 

"Where  the  heart  wills  the  way  is  open."  There  was  a  young 
fellow  by  the  name  of  Flynt  who  was  looking  for  a  partner  who 
knew  timber  better  than  he  did;  one  who  understood  managing 
men  and  teams,  and  could  get  the  most  out  of  a  tract  of  timber 
with  the  least  waste  of  material,  and  Thompson  told  him  of  Bob, 
who  lost  no  time  in  examining  the  proposition  from  every  point 
of  view.  It  was  the  one  thing  he  desired ;  the  one  great  chance  of 
hi?  lifetime,  and  he  knew  that  he  could  make  it  a  success;  but 
there  was  one  thing  he  lacked.  He  did  not  have  the  requisite 
amount  of  capital  necessary  to  start  in  business  with  Flynt,  who 
wanted  his  partner  to  stand  at  least  a  third  of  the  expense.  Bob 
was  sure  that  he  could  raise  the  money  within  the  limit  of  time 
that  Flynt  would  wait.  There  was  another  man  stood  ready,  but 
Flynt  preferred  Bob,  who  was  sure  that  he  could  make  good. 

He  consulted  with  the  Judge,  who  was  enthusiastic  over  the 


HOW    BOB    MADE    GOOD.  167 

project.  The  Judge  could  see  dollars  where  most  men  could  see 
cents,  and  Bob  valued  his  opinion  highly.  But  he  never  hinted  to 
him  that  he  did  not  have  the  money.  He  could  not  humble  him- 
self before  the  father  of  the  girl  he  loved.  He  knew  that  the 
Judge  heartily  disapproved  of  the  years  and  money  he  wasted, 
and  never  would  he  go  to  him  with  a  hard-luck  story.  For  no 
hard-luck  man  would  ever  win  one  of  the  daughters  of  the 
House  of  Gordon.  And  Bob  knew  where  he  stood. 

He  had  only  a  small  sum  in  the  bank.  He  tried  to  sell  his 
mining  stock  certificates,  for  which  he  had  paid  sufficient  money 
to  start  him  in  business,  but  the  banks  would  not  take  them. 
Then  he  realized  bitterly  what  he  had  half-suspected ;  that  he  had 
been  cleverly  buncoed  by  "fake"  propositions.  His  disgust  at  his 
own  cupidity  was  only  measured  by  his  anger  at  himself 

Searls  could  have  helped  him,  but  Bob  would  not  ask  him. 
Searls  had  never  liked  Bob,  and  had  never  concealed  that  dislike 
to  any  great  extent ;  therefore  Bob  felt  as  if  he  would  eat  dirt 
rather  than  humble  himself  to  him  for  a  favor. 

There  remained  his  automobile;  but  the  machine,  never  first 
class,  had  been  so  far  outclassed  by  the  new  styles  and  many 
improvements  that  he  found  it  difficult  to  sell  it  at  anything  near 
its  value.  Finally  he  found  a  possible  purchaser,  who  would  take 
it  for  a  song,  but  Bob  would  not  give  it  away.  It  was  worth 
more  to  him  than  the  man  offered.  There  was  just  one  more  way 
of  raising  the  money.  He  would  appeal  to  Nell,  whom  he  knew 
had  already  enough  in  the  bank  to  make  up  the  paltry  hundreds 
he  lacked.  Failing  that  he  would  try  to  borrow  the  money 
somewhere.  Thompson  could  not  help  him,  for  the  grocer  had 
invested  so  heavily  in  his  business  that  he  was  struggling  against 
bankruptcy.  Nell  and  Grandpa  were  the  last  recourse  left  him. 

Nell  had  made  money  that  year.  Her  strawberries  had  netted 
her  more  than  three  hundred  dollars,  which  she  had  banked.  Her 
other  small  fruits  had  brought  in  a  good  many  dollars.  Her 
lambs  and  wool  yielded  good  returns,  and  she  had  the  promise 
of  abundant  fruit  from  her  orchard  in  a  few  weeks.  All  obliga- 
tions had  been  met,  and  she  was  on  the  high  road  to  prosperity; 


168  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

but  religiously  saving  every  dollar  for  the  education  of  the 
younger  children. 

Bob  was  jealous  of  her  business  sense.  It  was  humiliating  to 
him  to  be  obliged  to  acknowledge  that  Nell  could  do  better  than 
he  with  the  farm.  He  wanted  to  take  some  of  the  credit  of  the 
prosperity  to  himself,  but  in  face  of  the  evidence  he  could  not. 
He  was  becoming  desperate  to  raise  the  money.  The  time  of  his 
option  had  almost  expired,  and  by  constant  worrying  over  it  he 
had  brought  himself  into  a  very  disagreeable  mood,  much  like  the 
Bob  of  the  old  days  before  he  had  met  Dallas. 

He  approached  his  sister  in  the  worst  way  possible  for  his 
own  interests.  If  he  had  gone  to  her,  as  he  would  to  a  man, 
explaining  the  ins  and  outs  of  the  business,  she  would  have 
gladly  helped  him,  but  he  went  to  her  demanding  the  money.  He 
was  arrogant  and  insistent.  He  declared  that  he  must  have  it  or 
be  ruined,  and  that  it  was  her  duty  to  let  him  have  it.  He  was 
sure  of  trebling  it  within  a  year,  he  boasted,  but  he  furnished 
no  proofs.  First  he  wanted  her  to  lend  him  what  she  had,  right 
out,  with  no  security  but  his  word ;  on  her  indignant  refusal  then 
he  stormed  that  she  must  get  Grandpa  to  mortgage  the  farm  or 
else  sell  the  timber.  Something  must  be  done,  and  she  must  do 
it.  She  met  the  last  proposition  with  silent  contempt.  His  talk 
seemed  but  the  forerunner  of  the  old  dreary  days  of  .struggling 
with  bills  which  he  would  accumulate  and  then  leave  her  to  pay. 
She  had  no  confidence  in  his  stability;  no  faith  that  he  would 
stay  six  months  in  the  business.  He  would  sink  what  he  put  in 
and  then  sell  out  in  disgust,  and  probably  return  to  his  work 
with  Thompson.  She  told  him  this  plainly;  she  reminded  him 
of  the  years  she  had  struggled  to  get  square  with  the  world,  and 
that  she  was  not  inclined  to  cripple  the  future  of  the  brothers  and 
sisters  for  the  sake  of  financing  him  in  any  more  of  his  wild-cat 
schemes. 

Bob  left  her  in  a  towering  passion.  He  was  almost  mad  with 
rage  and  disappointment.  He  told  her  that  she  had  thwarted 
him  all  his  life.  It  was  she  who  had  been  the  cause  of  his 
wasted  years.  If  she  would  have  sold  the  timber  years  ago  he 


HOW    BOB    MADE    GOOD.  169 

would  then  be  rich.  If  she  had  not  set  her  face  against  him  in 
the  election  he  would  have  won.  Once  in  the  Legislature,  with 
his  brains,  he  was  capable  of  rising  to  any  height.  He  would 
have  been  above  reproach — an  honor  to  the  town  and  the  State — 
and  would  have  reached  the  Governor's  chair  in  a  few  years. 
And  now — when  it  was  in  her  power  to  let  him  have  the  money 
which  would  start  him  in  life,  she  was  withholding  it.  She  was 
thwarting  him  again,  preventing  him  from  becoming  his  own 
master  and  what  was  worse,  closng  the  door  of  hope  in  his  face, 
for  while  he  was  a  hireling,  Dallas  Gordon  could  never  be  his  wife. 

His  taunts  had  stirred  Nell's  passion  equal  to  his  own.  She 
had  denied  being  his  evil  genius.  She  had  told  her  opinion  of  the 
election  in  a  few  scathing  words ;  of  the  laws  that  would  permit 
drunkards  and  paupers  and  unj  ailed  criminals  to  vote  and  deny 
respectable  intelligent  women  the  right;  and  had  added  that 
Searls  had  stood  for  respectability  and  a  clean  town,  and  he  for 
the  other  side. 

She  was  sorry  for  her  hot  words  after  he  had  left  her.  She 
decided  that  if  he  referred  to  the  money  again  and  would  talk 
with  her  calmly  she  would  let  him  have  at  least  part.  She  had 
no  business  to  become  angry  even  if  he  did ;  she  had  not  done  as 
her  mother  would  have  done,  and  she  hoped  he  would  bring  the 
subject  up  again.  But  he  did  not  mention  it.  When  he  was 
around  the  house  he  was  sullen,  refusing  to  talk  with  anyone. 
She  thought  he  had  given  it  up  as  the  days  passed  and  she  tried 
to  be  pleasant  and  considerate  of  his  wishes.  But  Bob,  in  a  state 
of  brooding  despair,  felt  as  if  she  and  everyone  was  against  him. 
All  he  wanted  was  to  be  left  alone  in  his  misery. 

The  last  day  came  when  he  must  close  the  business  deal  or 
lose  it.  He  would  make  one  more  attempt  to  sell  his  machine. 
Failing  that — he  did  not  think.  It  was  his  one  chance — the  open- 
ing of  a  lifetime,  and  he  was  not  going  to  let  it  pass  by. 

The  possible  purchaser  had  decided  not  to  buy  it  even  at  the 
song  he  had  offered  in  the  first  place.  Desperate,  Bob  went  to 
the  garage.  He  could  not  dispose  of  it  there  at  any  price.  It 
was  second  hand  and  out  of  date.  Then  the  poor  fellow,  with 


170  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

the  chance  of  a  lifetime  slipping  from  his  grasp  tried  to  borrow 
the  money  of  different  ones.  But  he  had  no  security,  and  his 
reputation  as  being  unstable  was  against  him.  No  one  had  any 
confidence  in  him.  Feeling  as  if  the  world,  the  flesh  and  the  devil 
were  in  league  against  him,  he  became  reckless.  He  did  not  care 
what  became  of  him.  For  the  first  time  since  Dallas  Gordon  had 
entered  his  life  he  flung  himself  into  a  saloon  and  drank  madly. 
It  was  no  use  in  trying  to  be  respectable.  Nell  was  against  him. 
His  own  flesh  and  blood  had  turned  him  down  and  the  sooner  he 
was  dead  the  better. 

In  his  bitter  mood  a  suggestion  entered  his  mind.  He  and 
his  sister's  chirography  were  so  much  alike  that  oftentimes  the 
rest  of  the  family  could  not  tell  the  difference.  He  could  forge 
her  name  and  get  that  money.  He  knew  that  she  would  not 
prosecute  him.  For  family  pride  she  would  hush  it  up.  There 
would  be  a  scene,  of  course,  when  she  found  it  out,  but  that  would 
soon  be  over.  He  would  be  started  on  the  road  to  prosperity, 
and  after  a  while  she  would  be  glad  that  he  had  taken  the  money 
that  way.  It  was  his  anyway.  He  had  put  into  the  family  as 
much  as  that,  considering  board,  presents  and  clothing.  If  he 
had  not  been  the  generous  brother  he  had  been  he  would  have 
had  that  money  drawing  interest  now,  and  be  beholden  to  no  one. 
It  was  his  and  he  was  going  to  have  it. 

Once  decided  he  became  sober.  He  went  to  Flynt  and  told 
him  he  was  ready  to  draw  the  money  and  close  the  deal  at  once. 
With  a  steady  hand  he  forged  his  sister's  name,  and  the  money 
came  into  his  possession  without  a  question. 

All  the  excuses  of  self-extenuation  which  had  seemed  so 
plausible  to  Bob,  before  he  presented  the  forged  note  at  the  bank, 
seemed  as  so  much  vaporings  as  soon  as  he  was  in  the  open  air 
again  and  had  cranked  up  his  automobile  for  the  homeward  spin. 
He  was  glad  that  he  had  at  once  given  the  money  to  young  Flynt ; 
glad  to  know  that  the  thing  was  settled  and  that  the  portable  saw- 
mill and  the  timber  lots  were  an  assured  fact ;  but  he  was  more 
wretched  than  he  had  ever  dreamed  it  possible  for  a  man  to  be. 
But  curiously  enough  it  was  not  the  fact  that  Nell  and  Dallas 


HOW    BOB    MADE    GOOD.  171 

would  despise  him  when  they  knew  that  troubled  him,  but  the 
thought  that  he  had  effectually  destroyed  his  own  self-respect. 
Never  again  would  he  be  able  to  instruct  Carlos  in  the  right  ways 
of  doing  things,  with  his  own  self-respect  gone.  He  could  never 
again  look  in  the  clear  eyes  of  the  young  boy  without  reading 
there  his  own  bitter  self-condemnation.  The  opinion  of  the  world 
did  not  count  as  much  to  him  in  his  self-abhorrent  mood  as  did 
the  stirrings  of  his  own  better  nature.  He  hated  himself  so 
heartily  that  he  felt  impelled  to  cry  out  to  the  world  that  he,  Bob 
Beverly,  was  a  self-confessed  forger  and  thief. 

There  were  several  things  to  be  attended  to  before  he  could 
start  for  West  Winthrop,  but  so  incessant  was  the  hammering  of 
his  conscience  that  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  did  all  the  things 
required  of  him  as  one  in  a  dream.  He  met  Dallas  in  her  pony 
carriage  and  he  forced  himself  to  smile  in  answer  to  her  laughing 
greeting.  "She  won't  smile  when  she  knows"  he  said  to  himself 
bitterly ;  then  acting  on  an  impulse  he  turned  his  machine  directly 
away  from  home  and  drove  recklessly  on  and  on,  anywhere  to 
escape  from  himself. 

Finally  he  came  in  sight  of  a  pine  grove  brilliantly  alight 
with  many  lanterns  swinging  from  the  trees  around  a  large  white 
tent.  Ox  teams  and  horses  were  hitched  close  together  on  each 
side  of  the  road,  and  groups  of  men  and  boys  were  standing  out- 
side the  tent  listening  respectfully  to  the  fiery  eloquence  of  an 
evangelist  who  was  preaching  to  the  congregation  which  filled 
every  bench  and  overflowed  to  the  outside  of  the  tent.  Ordin- 
arily Bob  would  have  gone  directly  past,  for  he  affected  to  despise 
the  hysterical  excitement  of  the  camp  meetings,  but  that  night  he 
was  glad  of  anything  to  interrupt  the  gloom  of  his  thoughts.  He 
slowed  down  and  leaving  his  machine  he  strode  up  to  the  tent  and 
looked  in  curiously.  The  preacher  saw  him  and  a  particularly 
vivid  sentence  was  launched  in  his  direction.  He  did  not  care 
to  be  made  a  target  for  the  preacher  to  launch  his  thunderbolts 
against,  so  he  made  his  way  in  the  shadow  of  the  tent  to  the  rear 
where  the  flap  of  the  curtain  was  lifted  to  admit  the  air.  There 
he  could  see  the  preacher  and  the  congregation  while  keeping  him- 
self from  sight. 


172  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

The  sermon  was  on  a  familiar  subject,  "After  death  the 
judgment,"  but  never  had  Bob  heard  it  handled  as  did  the  fiery 
evangelist,  whose  soul  was  consumed  with  the  desire  for  saving 
others.  He  was  a  young  fellow,  about  his  own  age,  and  his 
illustrations  were  drawn  from  the  familiar  every-day  life 
of  young  men.  As  he  proceeded  illustrating  his  points 
with  the  temptations  which  constantly  beset  them,  it  seemed 
to  Bob  as  if  his  own  life  was  being  revealed — as  if  his 
own  great  temptation  to  which  he  had  yielded — his  unavailing 
remorse  and  sorrow  over  what  he  had  done,  was  being  por- 
trayed by  one  who  knew  whereof  he  spoke.  His  final  illustra- 
tion of  the  prisoner  at  the  bar  of  justice  moved  his  audience  as 
to  a  man.  Bob,  from  his  point  of  view  could  see  strong  men 
crying  like  children  as  the  youthful  preacher  powerfully  por- 
trayed the  criminal  waiting  for  the  verdict.  He  pictured  the 
tense  sin-cursed  man — the  stern  judge,  the  awful  waiting  silence 
of  the  crowded  courtroom — the  entrance  of  the  jurors  and  the 
foreman's  verdict  of  guilty.  And  there  was  not  a  person  within 
hearing  either  in  or  out  of  that  tent  but  felt  himself  to  be  that 
prisoner  and  waiting  at  the  Bar  of  God  for  the  verdict. 

Bob  did  not  wait  to  hear  more.  He  could  not  stay  for  another 
word.  The  burning  words  had  cut  his  soul  and  he  knew  that 
he — he  himself  was  that  night  standing  in  the  prisoner's  dock 
of  his  own  conscience  waiting  for  the  verdict — the  verdict  of 
guilty. 

He  had  but  one  thought  then.  He  would  go  directly  to  Nell 
and  tell  her  the  truth.  All  thoughts  of  trusting  to  her  never 
finding  it  out  had  left  him.  He  knew  that  he  would  never  know 
peace  again  until  he  had  confessed  his  one  sin;  the  one  real  sin 
which  he  had  ever  committed. 

He  was  miles  from  home,  but  the  hour  was  late  and  the  roads 
were  free.  Like  a  living  thing  the  car  obeyed  his  touch  and  ate 
up  the  miles  between  him  and  Nell;  but  it  could  not  go  fast 
enough  to  ease  his  impetuous  haste  to  reach  the  sister  whom  he 
had  robbed. 

She  had  been  sitting  up  for  him,  and  had  just  lain  down 


HOW    BOB    MADE    GOOD.  173 

thinking  that  probably  Thompson  had  kept  him  over  night.  She 
was  roused  from  a  sound  sleep  by  his  voice.  He  had  let  himself 
into  the  house  and  come  to  her  room  and  knocked  at  the  door. 
"I  want  you,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice.  "Get  up  at  once,  Nell,  but 
don't  wake  Lucille." 

She  obeyed  silently,  fearing  that  he  was  sick.  She  slipped  into 
her  wrapper  and  stole  downstairs  to  the  sitting-room.  He  stood 
by  the  piano  with  the  lamplight  full  on  his  face.  "What  is  it, 
Bob?"  she  exclaimed  aghast.  "You  look  as  if  you  were  dead." 

He  tried  to  speak,  but  his  voice  choked.  "What  is  it?"  she 
asked  again.  "Are  you  sick?  or  have  you  lost  something?  Is  it 
Dallas?" 

"I  have  lost  the  greatest  thing  a  man  can  lose,"  he  answered 
bitterly.  "I  have  lost  my  self-respect.  The  worst  calamity  which 
can  befall  any  man." 

"Tell  me,"  she  urged  gently.     "Tell  me,  Bob." 

He  squared  his  shoulders  and  set  his  face  hard.  In  all  his  life 
he  had  never  been  confronted  by  a  harder  task,  but  he  did  not 
flinch.  He  made  no  self  excuses.  He  told  the  plain  facts  as 
they  were,  ending  by  outlining  the  sermon  which  had  driven  him 
to  the  confession.  When  he  had  finished  the  hard  look  had  left 
his  face.  He  did  not  ask  for  mercy;  he  neither  cringed  nor 
craved.  He  simply  told  the  facts  and  waited  her  decision. 

And  Nell.  The  first  feeling  was  of  utter  bewilderment.  That 
a  Beverly  should  steal — should  forge  her  name  to  get  money 
was  beyond  her  immediate  comprehension.  Then  came  a  feeling 
of  anger  and  in  a  few  sentences  she  made  the  young  man  wince 
under  the  plain  truths  she  told  him.  Then  her  temper  was  fol- 
lowed by  sorrow  and  pity  for  the  brother  who  had  fearlessly 
confessed  his  fault,  and  she  agreed  to  help  him  in  the  future  and 
to  forget  the  past.  What  he  had  done  they  would  never  speak  of 
again ;  it  should  be  as  if  it  had  never  happened,  for  she  knew  that 
the  final  and  supreme  test  had  come  into  the  life  of  Bob  Beverly 
and  that  henceforth  he  would  make  good. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE  BARRIER. 

After  the  last  obligation  had  been  met  the  way  to  prosperity 
on  the  old  farm  was  comparatively  easy.  Although  Grandpa, 
though  not  failing  in  strength  to  any  appreciable  amount,  was  not 
able  to  do  any  heavy  work,  yet  his  skill  in  setting  out  young  trees 
and  caring  for  the  growing  orchards  was  of  great  value.  Without 
his  help  Nell  could  not  have  begun  to  realize  from  the  fruit  as 
much  or  as  soon  as  she  did.  Each  year  the  strawberries  were 
the  best  in  the  market,  great  beauties,  which  brought  the  highest 
price  while  they  lasted.  Then  followed  the  currants,  blackcaps, 
red  raspberries  and  cultivated  blackberries  in  quick  succession, 
each  kind  rinding  eager  purchasers.  The  cherries,  plums,  quinces, 
pears  and  grapes  were  also  valuable  assets,  but  her  greatest 
income  she  realized  from  her  prize  apples  and  the  peach  orchard. 
That,  as  Grandpa  had  predicted,  proved  a  gold  mine,  and  each 
year,  from  the  beginning  of  the  strawberries  till  the  last  Fall 
fruit  had  been  gathered  the  dollars  rolled  her  way,  leaving  a  sur- 
plus after  all  expenses  had  been  met  to  be  put  by  for  a  rainy  day. 
The  neighbors  no  longer  scoffed  at  the  idea  of  fruit  growing  far 
from  a  market  town ;  the  market  was  at  her  door.  No  longer  did 
Searls  think  she  lacked  business  sense  by  not  selling  her  surplus 
apples  to  the  cider  mill,  when,  she  realized  more  a  bushel  than  he 
did  at  the  mill,  by  selling  hers  to  the  evaporating  company  in  a 
nearby  town. 

Everything  was  coming  her  way  then.  Bob  was  making 
money  in  company  with  John  Flynt.  He  had  become  his  own 
master  in  more  than  one  way.  He  had  mastered  his  improvident 
disposition,  his  love  for  hard  cider  and  the  wanderlust;  and  had 
set  his  unusual  talents  to  work  to  succeed  in  his  business.  The 
Judge  had  withdrawn  all  opposition  when  his  self-mastery  had 
become  an  assured  fact,  and  in  a  short  time  Bob  and  Dallas  would 
start  life  on  a  fine  farm  just  out  of  Winthrop,  the  gift  of  the 
Judge,  as  no  other  life  but  that  of  farming  would  suit  the  girl. 


THE    BARRIER.  175 

Nell  still  held  her  share,  which  Bob  had  insisted  on  her  taking 
in  the  portable  sawmill  business,  and  the  income  from  it  she  set 
aside  regularly  toward  the  education  of  Carlos.  It  had  been  a 
fortunate  venture  for  her  as  well  as  for  Bob,  but  never,  after  that 
first  night,  did  they  mention  the  forgery  to  each  other.  It  was 
as  if  it  had  never  been. 

The  greatest  boom  to  the  prosperity  of  the  Beverly  farm  had 
been  the  help  of  the  children.  While  they  were  growing  up  Nell 
had  had  their  work,  thus  cutting  out  the  problem  of  hired  help. 
After  Bob  proved  himself  a  man  he  had  furnished  money  for 
paying  for  the  heavy  work,  and  then  as  Manning  grew  older  he 
delighted  in  doing  the  work  himself.  He  had  been  graduated 
from  the  High,  after  the  three  years'  business  course,  at  fifteen, 
and  had  at  once  taken  up  farm  work,  in  which  he  delighted ;  and 
Nell  studied  to  keep  him  interested  by  letting  him  follow  his  own 
ideas  as  far  as  they  were  practicable.  Little  by  little  his  mechan- 
ical ingenuity  began  solving  the  problem  of  accomplishing  the 
most  result  with  the  least  hard  labor.  The  flats  had  been  flooded, 
and  an  icehouse  put  up  east  of  the  house,  and  every  Summer  he 
reaped  considerable  profit  by  furnishing  the  city  people  with  ice. 
A  bulkhead  had  been  put  in  the  cellar,  and  the  old  back-breaking, 
awkward  way  of  carting  all  farm  produce  through  the  house  and 
into  the  cellar  opening  from  the  kitchen,  was  forever  ended.  A 
good  woodshed  had  been  built,  and  with  the  gasoline  engine 
Manning  sawed  all  the  wood  for  the  house  and  for  some  of  the 
neighbors.  He  also  utilized  his  engine  for  thrashing  the  oats  and 
the  buckwheat,  and  he  delighted  in  the  improved  machinery, 
which  was  kept  in  perfect  repair  and  religiously  housed  when  not 
in  use.  He  specialized  in  potatoes,  but  kept  his  other  crops  up  to 
the  standard.  His  hay,  grain  and  roots  were  not  excelled  by  any 
of  the  neighborhood  farmers,  and  although  only  nineteen  he  was 
fast  proving  what  an  enthusiastic  boy  farmer  could  do,  if  he  tried. 

Lucille  had  made  her  poultry  yield  handsomely,  and  already 
she  had  a  comfortable  nest  egg  laid  away  of  her  own  earnings. 
Nell  had  early  realized  that  she  must  let  the  young  folks  feel  an 
interest  in  the  profits  of  the  farm,  or  they  would  not  be  content 


176  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

to  stay  there  and  work.  Both  Manning  and  Lucille  believed  that 
they  could  not  earn  more  away  from  home,  at  less  expense,  so 
they  were  content  to  stay  by  the  farm,  and  each  year  added  to 
their  bank  account.  Kenton  and  Carlos  also  had  their  share  of 
the  farm  profits;  Kenton  delighted  in  the  garden,  and  Carlos 
bred  live  stock  as  his  share  in  the  work.  Madaline  alone  did 
nothing  especially,  though  she  would  work  willingly  at  anything 
that  Nell  was  doing.  The  house  received  but  scant  attention  from 
her,  but  she  liked  to  sew  when  not  busy  with  her  studies.  She 
was  still  in  school,  though  twenty-one.  Two  more  years  and  she 
would  leave  college  and  begin  her  professional  work. 

The  seven  years  of  endeavor  had  been  such  happy,  busy  ones 
that  Nell  seldom  had  leisure  to  think  of  the  time  when  she  would 
leave  the  home  in  charge  of  others  and  begin  life  with  Searls. 
But  when  his  mother  left  him  suddenly,  one  Winter  morning,  it 
came  over  her  with  a  shock  that  now  the  time  was  very  near 
when  he  would  expect  her  to  come  to  him,  and  although  she 
loved  him  with  all  the  intensity  of  her  nature,  yet  there  was  a 
barrier,  which  she  knew  he  would  be  obliged  to  remove  before 
she  became  his  wife.  She  never  spoke  of  it  to  anyone,  but  when 
Lucille  would  tell  her  that  it  was  about  time  she  became  the 
mistress  of  the  colonial  mansion  on  the  hill,  she  would  evade 
the  subject  in  a  way  which  puzzled  the  younger  girl. 

She  spoke  of  it  again  one  morning  the  next  Fall,  when  Nell 
had  been  speaking  of  her  plans  for  the  next  year.  "One  would 
think  there  was  no  such  person  as  Searls  in  the  world,"  she  said. 
"I  fancy  that  he  will  not  care  to  wait  more  than  a  year  after  his 
mother's  death  before  marrying.  He  knows  that  I  can  run  this 
house  all  right,  and  he  needs  you." 

"I  don't  want  Nell  to  get  married,"  protested  Carlos.  "But 
if  she  does,  I  hope  Lucille  will,  too,  so  we  can  have  Madaline 
for  housekeeper." 

"The  house  would  be  kept,  I  fancy,"  sniffed  Lucille. 

"Anyway,  she  suits  us  boys  all  right.  I  don't  want  a  girl  as 
plaguey  neat  as  you  are.  Even  if  she  does  not  keep  things  as 
slick  as  you  do,  she  does  not  scold  all  the  time.  My  wife  will 


THE    BARRIER.  177 

let  me  scatter  things  if  I  want  to,"  he  retorted.    "I  pity  Norval 
Dixson  when  you  get  him." 

"Save  your  pity,"  laughed  Nell.  "Norval  has  been  brought 
up  that  way,  so  he  will  be  suited  with  Madam  Particular.  Each 
of  the  girls  is  all  right  in  her  own  way.  I  could  not  live  without 
both  of  them,  to  say  nothing  of  the  boys.  Besides,  I  want  to  mar- 
ket all  my  apples  before  I  think  of  marrying,"  she  added  laugh- 
ingly. 

"Searls'  hired  man  is  just  driving  by  with  his  big  load  of 
cider  apples,"  said  Carlos.  "They  say  the  apple  crop  is  so 
immense  this  year  everywhere  that  they  hardly  pay  for  the 
barrels.  Do  you  suppose  we  shall  have  more  than  we  can  market, 
either  for  the  evaporator  company  or  to  ship  away?  Joe  Green 
says  we  will." 

"Hardly,"  she  replied.  "My  apples  are  first  quality,  except- 
ing the  windfalls,  and  those  shall  be  stored  to  feed  the  stock  in 
the  Winter,  the  same  as  we  always  do.  I  am  not  afraid  of  losing 
any,  even  if  Joe  Green  is." 

"And  he  says,"  continued  the  boy  teasingly,  "that  when  you 
mavy  Searls  and  live  in  the  big  house  you  won't  have  your  own 
way  about  preventing  the  making  of  cider  and  storing  it  in  the 
cellar;  for  that  is  Searls'  way,  and  as  his  chin  is  as  square  as 
yours,  he  will  be  mighty  apt  to  run  his  own  house." 

Nell's  face  flamed.  "I  don't  happen  to  live  there  yet,  young 
man.  When  I  do  will  be  time  enough  to  find  out  whether  I  shall 
keep  poison  barreled,  bottled  and  labeled  or  not.  Perhaps  Joe 
will  find  out  then  for  himself." 

The  boy  laughed.  "But  the  poison  seems  to  agree  pretty  well 
with  them,"  he  persisted.  "When  I  was  over  there  yesterday, 
Searls'  cousin,  young  Ned  Jackson  from  the  city,  offered  me  a 
glass  of  cider.  I  told  him  it  did  not  agree  with  my  complexion. 
Then  he  said  he  was  man  enough  to  take  it,  while  I  am  older 
than  he  is,  and  tied  to  my  sister's  apron  strings  yet.  I  told  him 
that  apron  strings  could  be  untied  easier  than  strings  hitched  to 
a  cider  barrel  or  a  cigarette,  I  offered  to  bet  with  him  that  I 


178  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

could  beat  him  in  anything,  books  or  sport,  and  he  would  net 
take  me  up.  He  is  a  cigarette  fiend,  and  I  guess  he  knows  it. 
Searls,  I  notice,  isn't  especially  fond  of  showing  him  around  as 
his  relation.  Joe  Green  was  there,  and  he  commenced  to  talk 
about  Searls'  cider.  He  said  'it  wan't  no  trouble  at  all  fer  him  to 
bring  up  a  basket  of  garden  truck  whenever  he  wanted  to  get  his 
jug  filled.'  That  saved  him  buying  cider  and  saved  Searls'  time 
on  a  garden." 

"Joe  Green  talks  altogether  too  much,"  she  commented  simply. 
Her  face  was  white  and  her  voice  trembled  in  spite  of  her  effort 
for  composure.  "What  did  I  say  to  upset  you  so  ?"  asked  the  boy 
in  bewilderment.  "I  did  not  drink  any  of  his  old  rotten  apple 
juice,  and  I  don't  intend  to.  Didn't  you  understand  me  that 
way?" 

"You  did  not  say  anything,"  she  returned  impatiently.  "I 
want  to  get  out  in  the  air.  I  have  to  sort  the  fruit,  and  I  must 
get  to  work  immediately. 

Out  in  the  orchard  where  the  trees  were  bending  beneath 
their  weight  of  prize  apples,  which  were  being  picked  by  the 
boys,  she  fought  over  and  over  again  to  herself  the  conflict  which 
she  knew  was  sure  to  come  between  her  and  Searls  on  the  open 
bulkhead.  His  stern  face  and  determined  ways  were  constantly 
before  her.  She  knew  his  unyielding  disposition  and  she  also 
knew  her  own  firmness  on  that  one  subject.  It  would  be  a  battle 
royal,  and  she  dreaded  it. 

He  came  for  her  that  night  to  go  with  him  for  a  drive.  There 
was  an  unusual  tenderness  in  his  voice  and  manner  whenever  he 
spoke,  and  she  knew,  intuitively  what  was  in  his  heart.  For  a 
time  she  monopolized  the  conversation  by  speaking  of  everything 
else,  until  she  could  no  longer  evade  him.  Finally  he  spoke 
abruptly.  "Don't  you  think  it  is  about  time,  Nell,  that  you  came 
up  to  the  big  white  house  to  live?  I  have  waited  for  you  now 
seven  years,  as  long  as  Jacob  did  for  Rachel.  Don't  you  think  it 
is  time?  They  do  not  need  you  as  much  as  I  do.  Lucille  can 
take  full  charge  there  now."  He  took  her  hand,  which  was  icy 
cold,  in  his  strong  clasp.  "What  makes  your  hand  so  cold?" 


THE    BARRIER.  179 

he  asked.     "You  know  the  old  saying.     Does  it  mean  a  warm 
heart  r 

She  did  not  speak — the  words  would  not  come.  He  took  her 
silence  for  consent,  and  continued: 

"You  know  that  we  agreed  to  wait — both  of  us.  I,  till  I  was 
alone,  and  you  till  the  children  were  grown,  and  the  farm  was 
prosperous.  I  have  been  alone  now  nearly  a  year,  and  I  cannot 
live  this  way  much  longer.  I  must  feel  as  if  my  home  was  my 
own — not  the  home  of  my  man  and  his  wife.  As  for  you,  you  do 
not  need  to  stay  here  a  day  longer.  Manning  and  Lucille  can  fill 
your  place  here,  and  the  younger  ones,  when  home  from  school, 
can  live  with  you  there  as  well  as  here,  if  they  wish  to  do  so. 
When  shall  it  be  Nell — in  a  week  or  a  month?  If  you  realized 
how  much  I  love  you  you  would  say  to-morrow." 

Her  heart  was  beating  so  wildly  that  she  could  scarcely 
breathe,  but  she  forced  herself  to  look  at  him  with  a  face  so 
white  that  it  startled  him.  Her  eyes  were  suffused  with  unshed 
tears,  and  there  was  a  catching  sob  in  her  voice  as  she  spoke : 

"It  is  no  use — to  talk  about  this,  Searls.  I  had  begun  to  hope 
that  perhaps  you  would  not  speak  of  it — that  you  had  changed 
your  mind,  but  I  knew  better  if  I  did  hope  so.  I  can't,  I  can't 
be  your  wife  as  things  are — that  is  all." 

He  could  scarcely  credit  his  own  hearing.  "Why  should  I 
change  my  mind?  I  do  not  change  easily.  You  are  the  only 
girl  I  ever  cared  for  in  the  least.  Mother  knew  it,  and  she  was 
willing.  She  said  so,  once,  the  last  year.  Why  is  it  you  can't 
marry  me  now?  I  have  a  right  to  know." 

His  voice  was  full  of  pain  that  struck  the  girl  to  the  heart. 
"Don't,  Searls,"  she  cried  pleadingly,  "don't  speak  like  that.  I 
do  not  mean  to  be  either  hard  or  cruel.  But  it  is  true.  I  have 
thought  it  all  over  so  many,  many  times.  We  could  never  be 
happy  together  as  things  are.  Our  ways  of  thinking  are  so 
different.  Each  of  us  is  so  sure  that  he  or  she  is  right;  and 
neither  of  us  ever  gives  in.  So  you  see,  we  must  not  marry  each 
other — that  is  all." 

"Of  all  things  I  ever  heard,  this  is  the  most  incomprehensible 


130  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

of  them  all,"  he  said  sternly.  "What  on  earth  are  you  driving 
at,  Nell?" 

She  was  silent.  He  repeated  his  question:  "You  must  tell 
me.  I  have  a  right  to  know.  I  may  not  be  as  set  as  you  think. 
If  you  are  right  and  I  am  wrong  of  course  I  will  give  in.  What 
is  it  all  about?" 

"You  know,"  she  answered.  "You  know  the  one  subject  on 
which  we  disagree.  I  can  never,  never  marry  you,  Searls  Jack- 
son, as  long  as  you  keep  the  bulkhead  open  and  anyone  is  free 
to  go  into  your  cellar  and  help  himself.  "Wait,"  she  checked  him 
abruptly  as  he  started  to  speak.  "Let  me  present  my  side  of  the 
case  first.  Believe  me,  it  is  the  hardest  thing  I  ever  did  in  my 
life,  for  you  know  how  well  I  love  you,  and  in  insisting  that  you 
give  up  that  one  thing  for  me  I  am  testing  your  love  for  me.  We 
must  decide  it  now,  once  for  all.  As  your  wife  I  would  not  per- 
mit it.  Unless  you  close  the  door  now  you  woulH  hardly  do  it 
afterwards  and — then  there  would  be  trouble.  I  would  not  allow 
Joe  Green,  Pierre  Benoit  and  a  half  dozen  others  to  drink  all  they 
wanted  of  hard  cider  and  then  go  to  their  homes  so  ugly  drunk 
that  their  families  are  afraid  of  them.  Joe  Green  is  killing  him- 
self, the  doctors  tell  him  so,  but  as  long  as  your  cider  is  free  he 
will  drink  if  in  spite  of  everything.  And  there  is  Pierre,  as  good 
and  kind  a  fellow  as  there  is  in  the  country  unless  he  gets  hard 
cider.  The  other  day  his  wife  took  the  little  girl  and  came  up 
here  crying  because  he  was  so  ugly.  She  said  that  she  didn't 
mind  his  drinking  beer,  as  it  did  not  make  him  furious,  but  cider 
made  him  almost  crazy.  Poor  Marie,  I  could  have  cried  for  her. 
She  was  in  such  fear.  I  do  not  ask  you  not  to  make  sweet 
cider;  but  I  do  ask  you  not  to  give  hard  cider  to  these  men.  Is 
it  too  much  to  ask?"  she  pleaded  wistfully. 

Unconsciously  to  herself,  Nell  had  persuaded  her  inmost 
consciousness  to  believe  that  as  soon  as  she  made  that  request  he 
would  laughingly  agree;  and  perhaps  add  that  he  would  shut 
every  door  on  the  place  to  please  her.  She  paused,  half  expecting 
a  laughing  answer,  but  when  he  did  speak  his  voice  had  a  sound 
of  iron  in  it.  It  was  not  anger,  for  Searls  was  seldom  angry — it 


THE    BARRIER.  181 

was  more  a  tone  of  disgust  that  she  should  be  foolish  and  childish 
enough  to  request  such  a  thing. 

That  angered  her,  for  her  temper  was  always  not  very  far 
beneath  the  surface ;  but  with  her  it  was  soon  said  and  soon  over. 
She  was  ashamed  of  her  retort  as  soon  as  it  was  uttered — that  if 
he  thought  more  of  pleasing  the  neighbors  than  he  did  of  her,  she 
was  glad  she  had  found  it  out  before  it  was  too  late. 

And  then  he  answered,  calmly  and  deliberately,  stating  his 
views  on  the  subject  conclusively,  and  proving,  apparently,  that 
Nell  was  magnifying  a  very  trivial  thing  into  a  matter  of  serious 
import.  He  was  only  doing  as  his  father  had  done,  and  his 
mother  had  never  objected.  If  it  had  been  wrong  she  would  have 
known  it  and  prevented  it.  All  of  the  farmers  in  West  Winthrop 
did  the  same,  as  far  as  keeping  hard  cider  in  their  cellars,  though 
he  admitted  that  there  were  not  many  who  made  people  free  to 
help  themselves.  It  was  nonsense  for  Nell  to  suppose  that  Green 
and  Benoit  were  getting  cider  there  frequently.  He  pointed  out 
that  if  that  was  the  case  he  would  have  to  make  dozens  of  barrels 
each  year  to  one  that  he  was  making  then.  It  was  true,  that 
whenever  men  working  for  him  wanted  a  drink  of  cider  they 
were  free  to  get  it,  and  occasionally  a  few  of  them  filled  their 
jrgs  from  his  barrel.  That  was  all  there  was  about  it,  and  his 
cider  was  not  to  blame  for  the  wrecks  Green  and  Benoit  were 
becoming.  It  was  the  cheap,  adulterated  whisky  they  purchased 
in  Winthrop,  and  not  his  cider,  which  was  the  pure  juice  of  the 
apple.  He  hoped  that  Nell  understood  him,  for  there  was  noth- 
ing more  to  be  said.  He  should  continue  to  run  his  farm  in  his 
own  way  whether  he  married  or  not.  He  argued  that  she,  being 
as  sensible  a  person  as  she  was,  would  no  longer  continue  to  make 
a  mountain  out  of  a  molehill,  and  would  consent  to  an  early 
marriage. 

But  the  very  firmness  which  he  had  always  admired  so  much 
in  Nell  now  rose  in  opposition.  Her  position,  from  her  point  of 
view,  was  as  tenable  as  his.  She  left  the  neighbors  out  of  the 
argument,  but  she  spoke  of  the  boys — how  she  had  struggled  to 
keep  them  interested  on  the  farm  for  two  reasons ;  one  was  that 


182  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

they  should  love  country  life  and  the  home,  and  the  other  was 
that,  by  keeping  them  with  her  she  was  keeping  them  from  great 
temptations  during  their  impressionable  years.  She  spoke  of  Bob 
— of  the  years  he  had  wasted  because  of  his  love  for  drink,  which 
he  had  acquired  at  the  hard  cider  barrel,  and  she  asked  him  if  he 
had  ever  heard  a  hint  that  one  of  the  other  three  had  ever  drank 
hard  cider  at  any  time. 

"No,"  he  answered,  "I  do  not  think  they  ever  have.  If  they 
had  Joe  Green  would  have  heard  it  and  told  me.  And  you  know, 
Nell,  that  I  never  drink  it,  so  you  have  no  cause  to  worry.  So 
drop  the  subject  and  be  sensible.  You  know  I  want  you  for  my 
wife  as  soon  as  possible.  Seven  years  is  a  long  time  to  wait, 
dear,"  he  said  caressingly. 

"Never,"  she  said  decisively,  "never  as  long  as  that  bulkhead 
stays  open !  It  is  such  a  little  thing  to  grant,  Searls,  such  a  little 
way  to  prove  your  love  for  me.  Why  don't  you  do  it?" 

"If  it  was  anything  sensible  I  would;  but  not  for  a  mere 
whim,"  he  returned  impatiently.  "My  cider  has  never  done  any- 
one any  harm  yet.  When  it  does  I  will  stop.  Not  till  then." 

Both  dropped  the  subject.  Each  was  too  proud  and  too  angry 
to  continue  discussing  the  same  thing  over  and  over  again.  Nell 
was  suffering  intensely,  but  she  made  no  sign.  She  felt  that  she 
was  scorned  and  treated  as  a  child;  that  her  most  sacred  feelings 
had  been  trampled  upon;  that  he  put  her  love  against  his  own 
stubborn  will,  and  she  was  glad  that  she  had  found  it  out  before 
it  was  too  late.  And  he  felt  that  she  distrusted  him,  that  she 
believed  the  idle  gossip  of  a  drunkard  like  Joe  Green,  and  the 
frightened  story  of  a  Frenchwoman  against  his  word.  He  con- 
sidered that  she  was  meddling;  that  she  was  hysterical  or  nar- 
now;  bigoted  in  fact;  and  with  such  failings  he  had  no  patience. 
But  he  insisted  that  the  marriage  should  take  place  soon;  that 
she  should  trust  him  enough  to  use  his  own  judgment  about  what 
he  did  with  his  cider  or  to  whom  he  gave  it,  but  her  quiet,  stead- 
fast refusal  intensified  his  anger,  though  he  held  himself  in  con- 
trol. They  parted  as  mere  acquaintances  might,  with  a  formal 
good-night,  each  hiding  under  forced  calmness  intense  suffering 


THE    BARRIER.  183 

of  wounded,  tortured  love ;  for  Nell  loved  him  as  much  he  did  her. 
They  were  all  in  all  to  each  other,  but  neither  would  yield  an  iota 
to  the  other's  opinions. 

Each  endured  a  sleepless  night  and  days  of  mental  anguish. 
Each  hoped  the  other  would  yield,  but  the  weeks  passed,  and 
neither  made  a  sign  of  reconciliation.  It  was  months  before  they 
met,  for  in  every  way  had  Nell  avoided  meeting  him.  When  they 
did  meet  she  was  shocked  at  his  haggard  look,  and  he  in  turn 
was  alarmed  at  the  change  in  her.  She  had  grown  thin  and  pale, 
and  appeared  fully  five  years  older.  He  sent  her  a  note  the  next 
day,  asking  her  if  she  would  not  be  married  soon.  He  needed 
her,  he  pleaded,  and  he  was  afraid  that  she  was  failing  in  health. 

She  answered  briefly  that  when  he  fulfilled  the  conditions  she 
was  ready  to  be  his  wife.  He  would  not  yield  to  a  whim,  so  he 
disdained  to  plead  again.  And  then  Nell  began  to  plan  for  a 
future  life  of  loneliness,  and  endeavored,  as  far  as  possible,  to 
banish  him  from  her  thoughts. 

She  had  been  obliged  to  tell  her  family  why  the  engagement 
was  broken.  Grandpa  and  Bob  had  advised  her  to  marry  him, 
thinking  that  after  marriage  he  would  yield  to  her  wishes.  The 
girls  and  the  younger  boys  always  agreed  with  her  in  everything 
anyway.  The  home  would  never  be  the  same  to  them  if  she 
married,  and  probably  everything  was  for  the  best  as  it  was. 
And  thus  two  years  slipped  away  and  she  and  Searls  were  as  far 
away  as  ever  from  a  reconciliation. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

SWEET  OUT  OF  THE  BITTER. 

It  was  not  often  that  Nell  realized  she  had  left  her  first  youth 
behind  her,  and  that  in  strict  truth  she  could  no  longer  be  called 
a  girl;  but  when  she  did  remember  her  five  and  thirty  years  it 
was  always  with  a  shock  of  surprise.  But  one  golden  morning, 
when  November  was  trying  to  rival  June  with  its  delights  of 
Indian  Summer,  she  realized  her  years  almost  painfully.  She  had 
wakened  that  morning  feeling  oppressed  and  discontented.  After 
pretending  to  busy  herself  in  the  house,  she  had  gone  to  the 
peach  orchard  to  look  over  the  trees,  hoping  to  shake  off  her 
gloom  in  the  open  air.  There  was  really  nothing  for  her  to  have 
the  blues  about.  The  peach  season  had  been  a  glorious  one ;  her 
apples  and  small  fruits  had  found  an  excellent  market,  and  the 
farm  products  had  turned  out  well.  She  had  realized  to  the 
utmost  her  dreams  of  the  days  ten  years  ago,  that  the  time  should 
be  when  they,  the  Beverlys,  could 

Look  the  whole  world  in  the  face, 
And  owe  not  any  man. 

She  no  longer  need  to  plan  for  her  brothers  and  sisters,  for  all 
could  make  their  own  way  in  the  world.  Bob  had  made  good. 
On  a  fine  farm  just  outside  of  Winthrop  he  and  Dallas  were  rais- 
ing purebred  stock  which  won  no  end  of  blue  ribbons.  He  had 
buried  the  wanderlust  of  his  nature  forever,  and  was  one  of  the 
most  promising  young  men  in  the  country.  Lucille  was  soon  to 
marry  the  doctor's  son  and  live  at  the  Agricultural  College,  where 
he  was  one  of  the  faculty.  Madaline  was  at  Wellesley  again  for 
her  second  year.  The  Normal  had  followed  the  High  in  quick 
succession;  then  one  year's  successful  teaching  and  the  peach 
orchard  had  made  Wellesley  possible.  After  that  she  would  be 
ready  for  her  life's  work  till  Cupid  interfered.  And  the  boys? 
Manning  had  taken  a  course  in  horticulture  at  the  Aggie,  and 
was  now  planning  when  he  should  bring  his  bride  to  the  old  farm. 


SWEET    OUT    OF    THE    BITTER.  185 

He  was  a  man,  twenty-one  and  eager  to  begin  his  real  life  in  his 
own  home,  and  in  his  own  way.  And  Grandpa  was  anxious  that 
he  should ;  for  Grandpa,  just  a  little  lamer,  just  a  little  slower  in 
his  walk,  was  still  as  interested  as  ever  in  the  farm  and  the  world 
at  large.  And  besides  he  greatly  admired  the  girl  that  Manning 
was  to  marry,  for  the  farm  would  some  day  be  his.  Nell  felt  as 
if  the  time  was  fast  coming  when  she  would  be  in  the  way.  But 
the  home  was  hers,  and  there  she  should  stay  even  if  she  had  to 
live  in  old-maid  solitude  in  one  room,  and  keep  house  there  for 
Kenton  and  Carlos  when  they  were  home  from  college  until  they 
had  homes  of  their  own.  Kenton  had  decided  to  become  a  vet- 
erinary surgeon  and  make  his  home  somewhere  near  in  the  coun- 
try, where  he  could  raise  fruit  as  a  side  interest.  Carlos  had 
decided  that  nothing  would  suit  him  but  farm  life,  where  he  could 
specialize  in  training  hunting  and  trick  dogs;  and  also  breed 
the  best  pigs  in  the  country.  She  was  thinking  of  all  these  things, 
and  wondering  a  little  drearily  about  her  own  future  as  she  passed 
from  tree  to  tree,  examining  each  one  carefully.  No  matter  what 
became  of  her,  she  had  instilled  deeply  into  the  hearts  of  the 
children  a  love  for  the  farm  and  country  life.  For  the  Farm  of 
Hope  Deferred  had  become  to  each  and  all  the  Farm  of  Hope 
Fulfilled. 

Joe  Green's  slovenly  tones  arrested  her  attention.  He  was 
sprawling  across  the  stone  wall,  his  fat,  unhealthy-looking  body 
lying  like  a  lizard  in  the  warm  sunshine.  His  splotched  face  with 
its  purple-veined  nose  was  turned  toward  her.  "You  heard  the 
news,  Miss  Nell?"  he  called. 

His  voice  shadowed  a  tragedy.  She  walked  hurriedly  toward 
him. 

"You  hain't?"  he  ejaculated.  "That's  funny.  Pierre  Benoit 
killed  himself  and  his  wife  last  night;  least  that's  what  folks  is 
sayin'.  It  is  the  awfullest  thing  I  ever  heard  of."  His  face 
was  almost  white  with  the  horror  of  the  thing. 

She  repeated  his  words  aghast.  "How  did  it  happen?  Had 
he  been  drinking?"  she  asked  quickly. 

"Folks  think  so.     He'd  been  to  Winthrop  and  probably  got 


186  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

pretty  well  fixed  there,"  continued  Joe.  "Along  about  dusk  I 
see  him  goin'  past  my  house  nid-noddin'  in  the  seat,  and  I  see  a 
bottle  in  his  pocket,  and  there  was  a  jug  under  the  seat.  Pierre 
never  did  know  when  to  let  the  thing  alone.  He  got  as  far  as 
Searls'  and  stopped  there  to  trade  hosses.  My  boy  Joe  was  there, 
and  he  come  back  about  eight  and  said  that  Pierre  was  hagglin' 
with  Searls  to  trade  back  again.  You  know  they  swapped  about 
a  month  ago,  and  Pierre  had  been  boasting  about  his  good  bar- 
gain till  last  night.  Then  he  had  just  enough  down  him  to  make 
him  feel  smart.  My  Joe  said  that  Searls  told  him  to  go  home 
and  he  would  talk  hosses  with  him  to-day.  He  tried  to  put  him 
off,  as  he  saw  that  Pierre  wa'nt  in  no  shape  fer  a  trade.  But  Joe 
said  that  Searls  had  finally  agreed  to  swap  jest  to  humor  him 
when  he  come  away."  Joe  paused  to  cut  off  another  piece  of 
tobacco  from  a  new  plug. 

"Go  on,"  gasped  Nell,  trembling  so  violently  that  she  could 
hardly  speak.  "What  did  Searls  have  to  do  about  it?" 

"That  is  what  I  am  coming  to,"  said  the  man.  "Now,  nobody 
knows  jest  what  happened.  Searls'  man  was  off,  and  there  wa'nt 
nobody  around  after  my  boy  cum  hum.  About  ten,  Smith,  who 
lives  t'other  side  of  Jackson's  heard  a  team  a  rattlin'  down  the 
road  like  mad.  He  said  to  his  wife  that  sounded  like  Searls'  Pete, 
and  this  mornin'  Pete  was  in  Pierre's  stable,  so  they  must  have 
swapped  hosses  after  all." 

"But  the  other  thing — what  was  it?"  she  forced  herself  to 
whisper. 

"That  nobody  rightly  knows.  They  jest  surmise.  The  neigh- 
bors heard  the  noise  and  went  over  and  there  was  a  jug  of  hard 
cider  on  the  table  and  a  bottle  of  rum,  too.  Well,  Pierre  won't 
trade  no  more  hosses,"  he  added,  a  tear  trickling  down  his  fat 
cheek.  "Don't  take  on  so,  Miss  Nell ;  it  ain't  nothin'  to  you,  nor 
to  me.  They  was  pea-soup  Canucks,  and  nobody  don't  blame 
Searls.  Of  course  he  allus  let  folks  go  into  his  cellar  and  help 
themselves.  The  bulkhead  was  allus  open.  But  I'm  thinkin' 
about  their  little  girl.  There  hain't  nobody  to  look  after  her,  so  I 
suppose  she'll  have  to  go  to  the  home.  Ef  I  had  the  money  the 


SWEET    OUT    OF    THE    BITTER.  187 

old  woman  and  me  would  keer  for  her — blamed  ef  we  wouldn't." 
He  lifted  his  huge  bulk  slowly  from  the  wall  and  stood  up.  His 
hand  shook  as  he  wiped  his  eyes  with  a  flaming  bandanna  hand- 
kerchief. "I  guess  I'll  jog  along.  I'm  so  worked  up  over  this 
thing  that  I  can't  work.  And  Pierre  was  allus  so  free  with  his 
likker.  Allus  giving  anybody  a  swig.  That  was  his  only  fault. 
Cider  never  hurt  nobody,  but  the  rum  was  what  done  it;  but  the 
old  woman  says  it  was  both."  He  kept  on  mumbling  to  himself 
as  he  lumbered  down  the  road. 

For  a  long  time  Nell  stood  by  the  wall  too  dazed  and  shocked 
by  the  awful  news  to  move,  or  hardly  think.  Her  imagination 
supplied  the  missing  details  of  the  tragedy.  She  felt  as  if  she 
were  struggling  in  the  throes  of  a  deadly  nightmare,  from  which 
there  could  be  no  awakening.  Finally  she  started  toward  the 
house.  She  wanted  to  get  out  of  the  sunshine — away  from  the 
laughing  light  which  seemed  to  mock  the  misery  which  human 
beings  brought  into  the  world.  Lucille  met  her  at  the  gate.  Her 
face  was  white,  and  there  was  no  light  in  her  eyes. 

"You  have  heard,"  she  said;  "it  was  just  telephoned  to  me. 
Poor  Pierre  and  Marie  and  little  Yvonne." 

Nell  threw  up  her  hands  as  if  to  ward  off  a  blow.  "Don't," 
she  cried.  "Don't,  Lucille.  Don't  speak  of  it,  ever  again." 

Grandpa  had  heard  the  news,  but  like  Nell  he  strove  to  put 
it  from  him.  He  did  not  mention  it  again,  but  went  with  feeble 
step  around  his  daily  duties.  Neighbors  called  with  fragments 
of  news;  the  coroner  and  the  undertaker  had  been  to  the  Benoit 
house,  and  half  the  town  had  congregated  there  also;  brought 
there  by  the  mingled  emotions  of  sorrow  and  curiosity,  but  the 
Beverlys  stayed  away.  The  horror  of  it  weighed  Nell  to  the 
earth  and  Lucille  had  no  desire  to  go.  There  would  be  time 
enough  at  the  funeral  the  following  day,  for  there  were  no  rela- 
tives to  be  notified.  Pierre  and  Marie  had  been  alone  in  the 
world. 

The  neighbors  did  not  mention  Searls  to  the  Beverlys,  but 
Nell  divined  their  thoughts.  She  wondered  dully  all  day,  what  he 


188  NELL    BEVERLY,   FARMER. 

was  doing  and  what  he  thought  about  it,  but  his  name  did  not 
pass  her  lips. 

The  short  day  faded  into  a  beautiful  evening;  and  the  moon 
rode  dazzlingly  in  the  eastern  sky.  Norval  came  in  his  auto,  and 
Lucille  went  with  him  to  the  hill.  Grandpa  retired  early  to  his 
study,  and  restless  and  uneasy  Nell  went  outdoors  to  the  Twisted 
Trysting  Tree,  now  a  majestic  elm  whose  branches  mingled  with 
its  mate  in  an  arch  over  the  driveway.  She  sat  down  on  the  rus- 
tic bench  in  the  old  place.  Not  that  she  expected  Searls.  It  had 
been  two  years  since  he  had  sat  there  with  her,  and  during  that 
time  she  had  never  sat  on  the  bench  of  an  evening ;  but  that  night 
she  felt  impelled,  in  her  misery,  to  seek  the  bench  for  consola- 
tion. Somehow,  the  moonlight  reminded  her  of  the  night  ten 
years  before  when  she  had  talked  with  Bob  in  the  old  kitchen. 
She  tried  to  think  of  all  that  had  happened  since  that  night,  but 
her  mind  kept  constantly  returning  to  Searls.  Presently  her 
quick  ear  caught  the  sound  of  a  man's  step  coming  along  the  road. 
She  knew  it  was  his,  but  she  did  not  turn  till  he  stood  before  her, 
his  dark  shadow  breaking  up  the  delicate  tracery  of  the  bare  limbs 
on  the  ground.  Then  she  looked  up.  The  moon  shone  full  on 
his  face,  and  it  was  the  face  of  one  crushed  with  sorrow. 
"Searls !"  she  exclaimed  involuntarily,  her  voice  welling  with  pity. 

"May  I  sit  down  in  the  old  place?"  he  asked  in  a  low  voice. 

She  moved  aside  and  he  sat  down  slowly  as  if  he  was  an  old 
man.  For  a  moment  he  stared  at  her  fixedly,  then  he  dropped 
his  eyes.  "Pardon  me,"  he  said  courteously,  "I  did  not  realize 
what  I  was  doing.  I  have  wanted  to  see  you  all  day ;  but  I  have 
had  many  things  to  attend  to.  I  could  not  come  before.  I  know," 
he  continued  in  a  tone  which  rang  with  despair,  "that  after  what 
has  happened  you  will  never  forgive  me  and  probably  never  speak 
to  me  again,  but  to-night  you  must  listen." 

She  bowed  silently.     She  could  not  trust  her  voice. 

He  spoke  with  an  effort :  "I  did  not  want  to  trade  horses  last 
night.  Finally,  I  agreed  to  trade  in  order  to  get  him  to  go  home, 
for  I  knew  that  Marie  would  be  anxious  about  him.  She  always 
was,  you  know."  He  paused  so  long  that  Nell  thought  he  was 


SWEET    OUT    OF    THE    BITTER.  189 

not  going  to  speak  again.  "Go  on,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice.  He 
continued  in  broken  statements,  evidently  forcing  himself  to 
voice  his  thoughts. 

"He  was  not  ugly — just  silly — but  he  kept  his  head  for  the 

trade.  He  was  shrewd,  Pierre  was. After  the  trade  I  took 

his  horse  and  lead  her  into  the  barn,  leaving  him  to  harness  Pete 

into  the  democrat. When  I  came  back  I  clid  not  see  him;  I 

knew  he  had  gone  somewhere. At  last  I  saw  him  come  from 

around  the  house — He  had  the  jug  and  I  knew  where  he  had 

been. He  began  to  joke  about  vinegar  and  cider  not  mixing. 

Said  he  had  emptied  the  vinegar  which  Marie  had  sent  for  into 

some  bottles,  as  he  wanted  the  cider  to  take  home. 1  did  not 

say  anything — I  couldn't. He  hung  around  a  few  moments, 

praising  his  wife  and  baby,"  he  continued  in  so  low  a  voice  that 
Nell'  could  scarcely  hear.  "He  said  he  had  bought  her  some  pres- 
ents— a  dress — some  ribbon  and  new  shoes.  And  he  had  got  a 

Teddy  bear  for  the  baby  and  a  doll's  carriage. 1  told  him  he 

ought  to  get  on  home,  as  it  was  getting  late.  He  went  away — 
singing. My  God,  Nell,  I  can't  go  on,"  he  exclaimed  abruptly. 

Nell  laid  her  cold  hand  pityingly  on  his  bowed  head.  He 
grasped  it  crushingly  with  hands  that  were  colder  than  hers.  She 
winced  with  pain,  but  did  not  draw  it  away. 

"I'm  a  brute,"  he  said  brokenly.  "I  don't  know  what  I  am 
doing. Where  was  I  ?  Well,  the  next  I  knew  was  before  day- 
light, when  Smith  called  to  me  outside  my  window. 1  could 

not  believe  it.  I  was  crazed. For  a  time  I  thought  they  would 

arrest  me  as  the  murderer.  I  even  started  to  go  to  the  sheriff 
myself.  Nell,  if  I  live  a  hundred  years  I  will  never  forget  the 
anguish  of  this  morning.  There  is  no  need  of  a  hell  in  the 
future. For  the  past  eighteen  hours  I  have  lived  in  one. 

"At  last  I  went  to  the  house."  In  the  moonlight  Nell  could 
see  the  tears  running  down  his  face,  though  his  voice  was  steady. 

"It  was  just  as  they  said.  He  had  stabled  his  horse  all  right. 

Pierre  was  always  good  to  animals. He  had  drank  some 

cider  in  the  barn;  there  was  a  little  left  in  a  tin  cup.  Marie  had 
not  gone  to  bed — she  had  been  waiting.  His  supper  was  still  on 


190  NELL    BEVERLY,  FARMER. 

the  stove  and  the  table  set.  It  is  supposed  that  he  had  got  ugly ; 
the  cider  had  stirred  up  the  devil  that  was  in  him — that  is  in  us 
all.  Nobody  knows  what  happened;  we  can  only  surmise — but 
the  suicide  followed  immediately.  I  got  there  as  soon  as  the 
coroner.  Don't  ask  me  what  I  saw.  By  and  by  the  little  girl 
woke  up.  She  came  toddling  out  of  the  bedroom.  Somebody 
had  opened  the  packages — perhaps  it  was  Marie.  The  child  saw 
her  Teddy  bear.  She  began  to  scream  with  delight.  She  put  it 
into  her  doll  carriage  and  pushed  it  up  to  me.  She  climbed  on 
my  knee  and  called  me  'papa.'  She  called  me  'papa/  "  he  repeated, 
"and  there  in  my  own  soul  I  registered  a  vow  that  I  would  be  one 
to  her  as  long  as  I  lived.  I  told  the  coroner  and  the  undertaker 

that  I  would  bear  all  the  expense. 1  took  the  child  home  with 

me,  and  she  shall  never  go  away.  I  went  down  the  cellar  and  I 
found  that  Pierre  had  left  the  tap  open.  I  have  no  cider  now. 
And  the  bulkhead  is  closed  forever.  I  don't  expect  anything  at 
your  hands,  Nell.  I  only  wanted  to  tell  you  that  all  this  might 
have  been  saved  if  I  had  not  been  so  set." 

Nell  put  her  arm  over  his  shoulder.  He  raised  his  face  and 
looked  at  her  with  dull,  brimming  eyes.  "Listen  to  me,  Searls," 
she  said  softly.  "You  should  have  brought  little  Yvonne  to  me. 
We  will  be  her  parents,  you  and  I,  just  as  soon  as  you  say/' 

And  the  light  that  was  never  on  sea  and  land  glorified  his 
face  as  he  drew  her  toward  him,  in  an  ecstacy  of  realization.  "And 
in  our  love  for  her,  and  each  other,  I  will  make  atonement,"  he 
whispered. 


Photomount 
Pamphlet 

Binder 
Gaylord  Bros. 

Makers 
Syracuse,  N.  Y. 

PAT.  JAN  21,  1908 


YC  59307 


4977.;. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


